REVOLUTION
by Cheese and Wine Productions
Summary: When a relationship is built on a lie, how can anything come of it? Sephiroth/Genesis, Victorian AU. Warnings inside. R&R is love.
1. Act I

**Warnings; **AU, yaoi, mild substance abuse, prostitution, cross-dressing, attempted rape... and Chaos D8

**Disclaimer; **Characters not ours. Don't sue us, we're saving up for Vincent's hip replacement :3

**A/N; **Once upon a time when we'd finished the last monster of a role-play, it fell to a little Devonian girl to pick the next idea. And she happened to be doing history and a bunny blasted through the window and smacked her in the back of the head with a spork that was actually an artefact from the Victorian era.

Yeah so that's how we started this 8D

Happy early birthday (because we're impatient) to sphinxofthenile who rather enthusiastically requested that we adapt the role-play into a prose fic D: And so it was done ;D

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**REVOLUTION**

**Act I**

**Scene I**

Smog coiled from Midgar's chimneys, smothering the dark streets with opalescent grey smoke, bubbling along wet cobbles like the sea. It was like a living thing, twirling up Sephiroth's legs as he strode through the dim streets, glancing up at a sky glowing emerald to get his bearings before he continued. The stars were bright, sparkling in velvety expanses, but they couldn't hope to oppose the power of the unnatural luminescence emanating from newly-built towers looming over the city.

This Industrial Revolution had spurred huge change in Midgar; new structures of red brick and gleaming metal had sprung up like grasses in the rains, dotting the skyline with hazy behemoths watching over the cramped hovels squatting in the lower districts and the elegant terraces crowding the higher ones alike. The discovery and harnessing of mako had terrified and enchanted the populace; it was always the way with simple people confronted with greatness. Sephiroth wasn't sure what he should think of the long-term consequences of the usage of this new power – but for now, no one else cared.

They were all swept up in the storm of development and excitement flooding the city these past few months; invention and ingenuity were rife, new models and blueprints and construction projects passing through the dusty offices of clerics every day. In the upper districts, at least, all were employed – the aristocratic women stayed in their plush homes looking after their tutored children while the menfolk disappeared off to slave over paper and ink all day, coming home tired but satisfied to a warm meal and bright mako lights. It was a comfortable existence, one that would not have been able to flourish in the illumination of ignorance and smoky wax candles. Now it was here and the future seemed so hopeful and bright for everyone.

But maybe not the poor souls occupying the districts here, on the outskirts of what was officially called Sector Five but which everyone referred to as the poor district. The air was even thicker here, ghostly shadows flickering through the smoke as the inhabitants went about their business trying to scratch a living from the leftovers given to them by the upper classes. There was no security here; no constant office employment, no businessmen hurrying to and fro in the trade districts consulting papers and figures. There was only desperation, people selling what they could to gain enough money to buy what others could spare.

Sephiroth pitied them. He'd grown up with hardly a material want – everything he dared to ask for was (albeit grudgingly) provided, and he knew others who had never even had to do that and hadn't ever lifted a finger to provide for themselves. It seemed odd that there could be such a marked difference in station in one city; the deciding factor seemed to be complete luck, as to whether one was born to a noble family, engineered together through socio-political machinations, or to some woman on the street with barely enough to feed herself, let alone an extra mouth.

On every corner under bright street lamps shining like beacons into the gloom gathered girls; women who had no better way of making a living than to rent themselves out, nothing to sell but their own bodies. There were so many, it was hardly surprising that they couldn't raise themselves from this existence, no matter how many ravening high-class men degraded themselves down here.

As he walked past one such group, a few detached themselves from the others to trail around him, reaching out with grime-stained hands but stopping just short of besmirching his heavy black coat, running thick tongues over their dull lips.

"Fancy a tumble, mister?"

"Only a sovereign… swish gentleman like you could afford it!"

Without a word he gently pushed them aside, carrying on with a shake of his head. There was no lust inspired with these wretched creatures; only pity, embarrassment for their unashamed soliciting, and underneath, cold indifference. They were ten to a penny in every city Sephiroth had been to or heard of – they couldn't be saved. All of them were doomed to be dragged shrieking into the world, wrench what they could from life and die alone and unmourned in some dank back alley. They were moths; flaring for a brief moment, drawn forever to the light of improving themselves, but always burning up before they reached it.

"No thank you," he said politely, refusing to meet their eyes for fear they would see the disdain lurking beneath. He didn't intend to take them up on their propositions; he was not poor, but he hated frittering money away on unnecessary indulgences. Having never made a point of visiting these districts unless, as now, he had no choice but to walk through them, he'd successfully managed to stay clear of falling to the vices that had claimed so many of his acquaintances.

"If you don't eat from that apple, sir, there's plenty of boys around who'd be glad to do you a service…"

"Especially Genny, gotta be careful with that one…"

There was a fit of giggling, but Sephiroth ignored it and shook his head again, speeding his pace a little. "I apologise, I cannot take you up on your offers tonight. Good evening."

With defeated sighs they dropped away from him and moseyed back to their spot to wait for the next potential customer to lure into their net of debauchery and seduction. Sephiroth could still hear their girlish comments leaching through the mist as he continued on up the street at as swift a pace as he could maintain after a crippling day behind the desk, once more.

"Married, eh…"

"Shame."

"Never stops most of them!"

Their giggles receded quickly into the smog as he walked away.

The night was getting chilly now, and the damp air hung heavy around Sephiroth. He wondered absently how close winter was; it was technically autumn but recently the weather had been darker and damper and colder than it was usually around this time of year. The summer illnesses had broken out in the lower districts as they had since time immemorial, and were progressing to the seasonal flus and coughs brought on by damper weather; winter meant that the diseases would be killed off earlier. So far tonight, Sephiroth hadn't seen too many signs of the havoc they wreaked in the close-packed poorhouses; but then again, the day was more the time for beggars and peasants to throng the streets and he didn't plan to still be here by then.

A swift glance at his pocket watch made his step hurry a little, the tap of a plainly-decorated yet well-made walking cane setting his pace. He wanted to be home before long – the chill of the evening made him long for a warm fire, a glass of rich red wine, and (unfortunately) setting about putting the final touches to that proposal from his employers, the ShinRa Trading Company, to the Mayor regarding switching all street lamps officially from the old-style gas lights to new mako ones. A tiny sigh escaped his lips at the thought of that; so dry, and yet it was assigned utmost importance by the President, and as such had to be addressed as soon as possible. But it wasn't for slacking that Sephiroth was renowned, and that certainly wasn't what paid his wages. And to think, after it was finished, it would be a huge weight off his shoulders until the next assignment was thrown at him…

Mist swirled around the knees of his boots, a breeze stirring the atmosphere for a second. Sephiroth tugged the lapels of his black coat around him a little more snugly, not quite shivering yet but wishing ever more to be home. He only had to come this way because the main road had been cut off for the night – some 'incident' deemed severe enough to sever his primary route home off. A nuisance, but not an insurmountable one… He could have hired a cab, drawn by tired-looking draft horses and their skinny drivers, but he did not wish to wait to find one that looked vaguely healthy and had instead set off down here to cut through. A decision he was regretting at this moment.

**Scene II**

The industrial revolution was a fabulous advent, heralding many different changes, improving all sorts of business around the city. New methods of energy had made the rich richer and the poor poorer. Those who lived by the traditional means of burning wood and gas and could not afford the new mako had no other choice than to offer themselves forth to the workhouses, or into the secure labour of mako mining and refinement. Both left them too exhausted at the end of a long day, even if they could escape from the occupational prisons, to engage in midnight hedonism. Not that they could spare the pennies for it anyway. They had their own families to feed.

But for those who were lucky enough to be born in the upper sectors, working in crystal clean offices in tall, whitewashed buildings, the city had become their oyster. It wasn't quite a problem of 'what could one afford' and 'can one afford to do it all' rather 'where does one start?' for them. Tales of a richness that was not the form that could find itself in a wallet drew them down to the lower sectors when the sun set and the day's stocks closed; urged by older, world-wise companions to experiment in a dissolute lifestyle before the wife fell pregnant and at least _some_ decorum would be needed in the house.

The newcomers had swung the balance somewhat, not truly understanding the careful balance in which the districts operated; that no matter what stereotypes and rumours said, it was certainly not acceptable to stroll in looking for trouble and grab the first creature they saw in a dress too low-cut and racy to be becoming on a real lady – not that one could ever be sighted in the epicurean paradise. There were reasons why they were told to stay in their painted houses with their painted children and painted lives.

An interesting observation, how the streets all but a year ago would've been boiling with men and women searching for each other and something more – even at late at night as this. Pleasure knew no bounds, hours were limitless, until the clock chimed the wife's whining. Blue eyes scanned the near desolate, mist-scattered avenues that offered the occasional gentleman who was pulled away into alleys and grotty buildings before they even reached him.

Business was good, but business was slow.

Genesis sighed, closing his eyes and taking a long breath in through his cigarette. Reclining against the wall, half bathed in a yellow light, he watched fellow inhabitants of the slums wander past on their way. Few turned to acknowledge him, either amiable or with disdain. The was the only one of his kind that ventured out into the public eye, risking a run in with the law, albeit in a convincing guise. As such he was a liability, but one that drew in wealth. Androgynous features and code of dress made him a novelty, something for men to see, not just touch. Few knew him as a male, appearance far too pretty to betray anything from the outside: his patrons and _fair_ master and those unfortunate enough to find themselves under the same employment all knew he was worth more working than kept under a lock and key.

There was something calming in the monotony, like the waves that crashed onto the shore that he hadn't seen since he was a child. It was about the only way to relax, stood outside in the cold dark, his only company the cigarette in his fingers. Far from the exotic, or sophisticated, they were of the highest quality that he could afford on his wages. His clothes were something far richer, deep crimson in colour; of style far more elegant than that of an average whore. It fit his figure tightly, almost too tightly, to give him curves and accents where a male body would've just been straight and solid. Hair rested plainly, unadorned and fresh, around his painted face, the colour of Eastern spices.

Out of the darkness came a large, square figure, long dark hair framing a leathered face, his jaw and mouth concealed by a thick black beard, only the glint of his teeth as he entered the light was visible. Brown eyes were dazed and he stank of cheap gin. Danger flared up immediately behind Genesis' eyes, but his expression remained flat.

"'Ello darling," the man slurred, gloved hands gripping the redhead before he could even turn and announce that he wasn't open for business, and if Sir could kindly move into the building to sate his thirsts…

When Genesis struggled, pulling away or pushing him back, the man only doubled his attack. Those hands grasped tighter to his forearms, dragging the young redhead back into the shadows of the alley beside the large building, and forced his back hard against the damp brick. And before Genesis could even shout out, one of those hands, hot and sweaty, wrapped around his mouth. The taste of bile in his mouth overpowered that of salt. And before Genesis could even move to defend himself, perhaps a sharp kick in the centre of a man, his legs were spread, invalid, and the aggressor filled the void.

"Yeah, you just keeping strugglin' like that, darling."

Azure eyes hardened, jaw itching to bite, but his mind was too repulsed by the man to do so – even for his own protection. A window would quickly open for an escape. Somehow. And soon, he hoped, for one hand had asserted itself under the skirt of his dress, quickly aiming for a target that wasn't there. He saw the confusion on that face, even in the pitch black. But just when Genesis suspected the man to run, disgusted and afraid to commit too many crimes in a single encounter, that grimy voice simply smirked.

"Don't find ones like you too often."

Eyes doubled in size, Genesis twisted in the grasp, but was only restrained further. His wrists were pinned atop his head, where the coarse brick ruined the delicate lace of his gloves. Any time he tried to cry out the sound was muffled and pathetic, and the hand pressed down harder, making breathing a much more trying task.

**Scene III**

Sephiroth's thoughts were fixed on that new case of Mideel Vermell lingering in the cellar that he'd been determined to save for a special occasion when he caught the echoes of a scuffle in the shadows surrounding him. Shrugging it off as the skittering of a rat, common in these parts, he ignored it and walked on – but there it was again, sounding suspiciously like a muffled sob and what could have been a muttered threat. He halted, letting his ears become accustomed to the hum and creak of the night, eyes searching the mist intently for any movement.

Robbers, thieves and cutthroats were as common as the rats in these districts, driven by poverty to stealing from rich wanderers into their territory and thriving off the fear of their fellow slum-dwellers. Sephiroth didn't particularly want to get involved if there was a gang attacking someone; what was another dead prostitute? One less mouth to feed, and the criminals could be notoriously vicious. Surely it was better to stay aloof – this was nothing to do with him. And yet…

His fingers tightened on the handle of his walking cane as the silence stretched, turning this way and that in an attempt to locate the sounds' location like a hunting predator. There was a tiny, almost inaudible click as the handle's catch slipped free and he took the main part of the cane in his other hand, preparing to draw the halves apart. Where -

"Ah!"

It was there, on his left, and for a second the mist drew apart enough for him to glimpse a wide back straining to restrain a struggling woman, one of her aggressor's hands ruthlessly pinning lace-gloved hands above her head while the other wandered under her skirts. For a moment, Sephiroth froze. Rape wasn't an unusual occurrence among those who served the night – if the customer paid, the service had to be provided. But this seemed wrong, too violent and unexpected; and from what little he knew, he was emerging now into the slightly more reputable area of the pleasure quarter if there could be one, where the brothels were governed by rules rather than the rough, anything-goes attitude that pervaded the heart of the slums.

It only took a second, one more muffled shriek, for Sephiroth to ignore any hesitation he had, seeing only a defenceless woman being heartlessly abused and himself with the power to stop it. He rushed over the uneven cobbles towards the shadow of the red brick building, managing not to trip only because of an almost lifelong training in fencing and other methods of combat.

Coming to a stop a few paces away from the two, he strode the last few feet while drawing a razor-thin rapier from within the cane with a metallic ring and touched it to the side of the man's thick neck, ready to use the wooden outer shell as a defence.

"Excuse me, sir," he said in a level, cold voice, "but I believe you should unhand her now."

For a moment the man barely reacted except from a sudden cessation of the movements of his hands; beyond him, the woman's startlingly blue eyes widened more, but at this second he was not concentrating on her. All his attention was riveted on his opponent, tensing for a sudden retaliation as he watched for the bunching of muscles. There was nothing for a long moment charged with tension, and then Sephiroth broke the silence again, pressing the blade a tiny bit into the man's dirty neck.

"Must I repeat myself?" No reply; the sword drew a dribble of blood. "It was not a request."

With an angry grunt, the man ducked to the side and Sephiroth immediately withdrew, holding the rapier to guard – but the other didn't come for him as expected, instead spitting on the ground and stalking off, vanquished. Inwardly, Sephiroth sighed in relief – he didn't truly want to get involved in a fight which would certainly end in someone's death or wounding this night – but he still did not relax until he'd caught heavy shuffling footsteps sloping off into darkness completely. And it was then, and only then, that he turned his attention to the recipient of his impromptu rescue.

"I must thank you, Sir," a velvety voice said softly; but her gaze, locked to his as she curtsied as delicately as any debutante, spoke otherwise. Of fire, defiance, strength… things one would never find displayed in a girl of his own class. "Whatever can I do to show my gratitude?"

She was incredibly beautiful, a rare find among the usual dirty street whores. Aristocratic cheekbones graced an aesthetically shaped face, eyes reminiscent of sapphires peering out from behind long charcoal lashes. Sephiroth could tell her cropped hair would have been immaculate if she'd been in a composed state, but the way it fell tousled around flushed cheeks now was… fetching.

That azure gaze scrutinised him as she rose gracefully, no doubt judging from his attire that her services could well be paid for tonight. There was something about those eyes, some strange secret lying in the depths, and for a wild moment he wished that he could know what it was. But every girl here had a story to tell, none of them as pleasant as their company.

He knew exactly what she was asking, what she was offering, but he wasn't interested tonight. He was no Catholic, but he'd never used the services of someone of her profession before; it wasn't fear of infection, or disgust, but just because he'd never particularly felt the need. And he shuddered at the thought of what his parents would say if they ever found out. 'Draconian' was an understatement for his father's management of him…

Sheathing the sword and slipping the lock on the handle back into place, he tucked it under his arm. He didn't take his eyes off hers, somehow powerless to look away under the world-weary yet arresting gaze, but he was certain that if he glanced down the skin of her hands under torn lace hanging off her fingers in shreds would be smooth and unblemished, meticulously taken care of as the only other visible skin of her face was. It was unusual that she bore no pockmarks or scars from disease; so common were the poxes and measles down here that even the smallest child in the slums carried some mark from their ravages.

When he did tear his eyes away, he noticed the smouldering cigarette lying on the ground where presumably she'd dropped it when she was attacked; middling quality, not something he'd want to smoke, but better than the death traps most of the lower class were hooked on when they could afford it.

"Truly, I ask for nothing," he replied, inclining his head to her. "It's only right to stop ruffians such as him from terrorising others…"

With a heel he ground out the glowing ashes and pulled out a lacquered black case from inside his coat pocket. Opening it, with slender fingers he plucked out a slim, pearly white cigarette, replaced the box and offered it to her graciously, knowing it was far better quality than she could ever afford.

He saw something unreadable in her eyes but dismissed it, still holding her hand lightly in his. "And what name do you go by?"

She didn't answer immediately, taking the opportunity to accept the offered cigarette, inhaling it a little as if she recognised it – perhaps some other of her clients smoked Eastern tobacco as well as him. It was the fashion, after all, though it was more because of the pleasant quality that Sephiroth chose the blend.

Without a concern the redhead gathered up her skirts, exposing long, slim legs, almost porcelain except for black leather calf-length boots, laced and heeled and perhaps a little more expensive than what was expected of a whore of even her apparent class. She pulled her own small matchbox from a red lace garter; that done, she dropped everything perfunctorily back into place and ignited the match.

The long breath she drew through the white stick certainly had an indulgence that he could almost taste about it; how her eyelashes fluttered from the explosion of rich taste on her tongue. She drew her hand away and leant back against the wall to exhale.

"My name," the redhead finally graced the air with a near-lazy drawl, "is Genesis, and may I ask of yours?"

"Genesis…" Sephiroth echoed softly, committing the name to memory. Appropriate, he thought; it represented creation, perfection – and sin. No doubt that was why she'd chosen it. Many of the whores picked exotic names to make them seem more appealing, more uncommon than simply a poor girl trying to make a living. This was an interesting one, one that could have driven away many potential customers who fooled themselves into thinking they were religious – as if they could be, if they came here. How hypocritical they all were…

Genesis. Intriguing.

He breathed in the rich smoke as she drew on his cigarette again, thinking how strange it was that the scent seemed so much more fragrant when she was smoking it than it seemed when he used it. Everything about this girl was curious; she'd recovered entirely from her almost-rape, suggesting that the occurrence could hardly be described as occasional and her whole mien suggested she was more than willing to lend him herself for the night, already.

It was a little sad; that such a beauty, who would have risen up high in the social ranks he happened to frequent, was wasted down here in the shadows instead of shining out in the sun. Life was cruel.

Blinking to break the spell she was weaving with every drift of smoke, he gathered his thoughts, hoping he hadn't stayed silent for too long while he thought.

"Sephiroth," he said, with a small self-depreciating smile. He had no idea where the name had come from; no doubt from his eccentric father rather than his mild mother. "Sephiroth Crescent."

At that moment the bells in the clock towers dotted around the city rang as one, striking the eleventh hour. The muffled clangs dragged Sephiroth from the moment and he blinked, unnecessarily looking down at his pocket watch to check the time; the rings faded away through the night and he looked up to Genesis apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I should be going," he said, remembering the pile of work waiting at home in Sector Eight with a flood of foreboding. "I'm glad I could help you… Genesis."

"Thank you," Genesis said with sweet sincerity. But before she could say anything else -

"Genny!" The insistent voice rang out from inside the brothel, as stringent as the bells. He guessed her break was over; evidently the pleasure workers were just as hard-pushed as the clerical employees in Midgar's plush business districts.

Pushing herself away from the wall, breathing in the last of the cigarette and grinding it into the grimy paving stones, Genesis curtsied once more to him, brave enough to take a hand and brush a kiss to nimble fingertips.

"I am in your debt, Sir."

The cry from her master came again, and the door to the brothel swung open, filling the streets with a different blend of expensive smoke and alcohol, and the unmistakable, even to Sephiroth, scent of bought sex. "Good evening."

With which she stood back up and entered the building with an oddly haunting look in lingering blue eyes sent back over her shoulder. The fragrance of smoke lingered in the air as the doors shut behind Genesis, back to her duties inside the building. For a second Sephiroth considered calling out, asking for her to stay a little longer – but he knew how that would look, and he couldn't stop her from earning money when he was not intending to spend any. With a sigh, he turned, feeling the last touch of her lips burn on his hand, and walked into the night.

It was late when he finally arrived home, letting himself into the white terraced house and swinging the glossy black door open only enough to let himself in. He shut it with a snap, setting the locks and wearily hanging his hat on a mahogany stand before swinging off the long black coat. The lights were shining bright, new smokeless mako bulbs illuminating the tastefully sparse decoration and furniture.

Sephiroth had never been one for clutter or indulgence, yet he didn't live in discomfort either. There was enough to be homely, yet not too much to clutter; he didn't have hordes of servants skittering around, only employing a cook, a maid and a house servant. If he hadn't been so occupied by his work constantly, he wouldn't even have employed them, much to the horror of his contemporaries; he didn't see the point of wasting money when he could do it himself, and to be honest he was not entirely comfortable with the thought of having other people in his house all the time.

But needs must, and for now he was glad of the already prepared kitchen as the maid ushered him through to a set table and apologised for the wait for food.

"We weren't sure when you'd be back, Sir, so Cook just put it in the oven to warm…"

"That sounds fine, thank you," Sephiroth replied with a nod, too preoccupied to contribute anything else to the conversation and sitting down silently instead. The girl curtseyed and hurried off, pattering footsteps echoing off parquet flooring.

The meal was simple but filling, warming him through after the chill of the night. After it was taken away, Sephiroth retired to the large sitting room and settled before the roaring fire, pouring himself a large glass of deep red wine. Staring at the refracted patterns the flames made through the liquid and taking an occasional sip, he pushed everything from his mind but one certain pair of gleaming blue eyes.

Strange how he could remember her so clearly now; he had no recollection of any of the other whores he'd passed, fading away into nameless shadows in the mist. But Genesis stood out, that last two words hanging in his head like the smoke hung in the air; though he didn't usually smoke often, he lit a cigarette now and perched it between the fingers holding the glass, breathing in the scent and wondering why suddenly he couldn't associate it with anything else but her.

**Scene IV**

The calm monotony of the street was only a vague, transient memory under the hustle and bustle of the brothel itself. The ground floor was like being shut on the showing pedestal of a livestock auction. Men filled all the available spaces along the elongated pine table that served as the bar. The dark varnish to make the wood seem that little bit more expensive, high class and beautiful was wearing thin through age and lack of attention. Other men sat at the individual tables, sampling the women available before making their choice for the night, if they could afford it.

Patrons were filed into different sections of the bar corresponding to their certain tastes. Ranging from the more conservative by the door and the bar to the back, for those who had something to hide.  
Genesis was blessed as such to find his place in a dark far corner, knowing that only those of good taste, experienced in the world, and those with the fattest wallets, would come for him.

There were some who just appreciated a beauty of their own sex. And then there were those who sought to vent anger and hatred for their wives on something that could take the treatment, and understanding, and not yield in the ways that a woman just couldn't comprehend. Misogyny was a disease of the aristocracy, one that he had contracted at birth.

Though he couldn't complain of the niche his employer had ushered him into, he hated having to walk through the fray to get there. Every night after his cigarette break, Genesis faced an onslaught of hands too poor to afford him, or those who thought he was just a pretty girl before they felt _him_.

"I've been saving up for you, Genny," one drunk voice whistled from behind a gin glass.

"That's nice, Sir." Genesis didn't even glance to acknowledge him: he'd heard such statements so many times.

A man could save all he wanted, but unless he was decent enough, his employer wouldn't let him anywhere near his finest catch - when he felt like it, at least. For that, Genesis was somewhat grateful.

Then, when he was close to his assigned table there was a familiar face sat waiting patiently with a glass of wine, arms tied around his neck, clothed in expensive black suit sleeves. "Hmm," came a purr in his ear. "Who was that with you outside?"

Genesis turned in the near-embrace to meet with the pale blue eyes he'd been expecting under a fringe of deep caramel hair. "A gentleman, who prevented a near rape."

Kunsel's eyes hardened. "Not you?" Genesis nodded. "Do you want to take the night off?" The lack of sincere concern in the man's face and voice was painfully tangible. But nothing Genesis wasn't used to.

Genesis sighed and shook his head, manually unwrapping the brunette from around him.

"There's my girl," Kunsel smiled and pushed the redhead to the table before vanishing back to whatever free poor worker he fancied a piece of.

Not bothering to sit down, Genesis simply held out his hand to the blonde at the table and offered a sultry smile. "What can I do for you tonight, Lazard?"

He stood, smiling, and straightened the lapels of his flawless pinstripe suit. Blue eyes peered over semi-circular glasses at Genesis. Lazard reached out and took his hand.

"Just the usual?"

_[Exeunt]_


	2. Act II

**Warnings; **AU, yaoi, mild substance abuse, prostitution, cross-dressing, forced sex and whatnot.

**Disclaimer; **Characters not ours. Don't sue us, we're saving up for **CHRISTMAS**. At least I am...

**A/N; **It's Sphinxofthenile's Birthday, so we're putting this out for her. Bless. Chaos is upset because Gee-String won't let her put really smutty bits in so early in the story *pouts*

Anyway, enjoy Act II.

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**REVOLUTION**

**Act II**

**Scene I**

The next morning dawned cold and sharp behind the thick drapes in Sephiroth's room. His eyes snapped open and then blinked slowly, working through the thick taste in his mouth from the wine he'd downed the night before. The last thing he remembered before collapsing into bed was propping the barely-finished report against the wine bottle on the bedside table; looking over, he saw that the maid had taken the empty glass and bottle away and ordered the piles of paper into a neat stack.

Again the odd feeling of discomfort with someone being able to frequent his room without his knowledge crept over him but he shook himself and ignored it. Maybe it came from the fact that his parents had only kept a couple of servants themselves; his father much preferred making his mother do the housework, restricting her in bonds she hated but never showed her distaste for. The pair were often ridiculed or disdained for their odd habits in society; they never showed signs of caring.

Sephiroth indistinctly remembered Hojo raving about an injustice shown them by some family named… it began with R, didn't it? Sephiroth couldn't remember. But the thought reminded him of the vagaries of social interaction and therefore of the need to get up and make his way to work for another mind-crushing day.

-

It was a depressingly bland façade; all red brick and rule-straight white mortar, crowned by the company's logo emblazoned above the oak door on a brass plate. Heaving a sigh, Sephiroth shifted his grip on the cane he carried with him always in case of the instance it should be needed, and stepped inside.

"That sounded desolate, Mr. Crescent," a voice from his left smirked, and he turned to see his supervisor, Lazard Deusericus, leaning against the foyer desk with his enigmatic smile aimed at Sephiroth. "Are you not filled with joy to be here?"

Sephiroth inclined his head politely towards his superior and then straightened, giving away nothing. "Good morning, Mr. Deusericus," he replied, and allowed a tiny bitter smile to cross his lips. "I believe the wine got the better of me this morning."

Lazard laughed and clapped a hand to the taller man's shoulder amiably. "We all have our vices, my friend," he said, leading Sephiroth towards the stairs.

Wishing to change the subject, Sephiroth nodded noncommittally. "I have the mako proposal for the Mayor."

"Ahh, thank you!" Lazard beamed. "I know we can always rely on you, Mr. Crescent… I approve of such diligent work."

Sephiroth shrugged as they reached their floor and he made his way to the frosted-glass door of his office, pulling out the keys for it. "No thanks needed."

He rested a leather briefcase on the desk and flicked it open, pulling out the sheaf of papers to hand to Lazard. The other took them graciously and excused himself, shutting the door with a small click behind him and leaving a promise to return with another task.

It could be a long day.

-

Sephiroth found himself dragging his feet that night after bidding goodnight to the maids and secretary as they lingered in the ShinRa foyer to tidy up when the day's business had ended. His watch told him it was half past nine; earlier than he had been out last night, and most likely the only factor contributing to Genesis' rescue.

Peering out from under the brim of his hat, he glanced up at the darkling sky and either way down the road, deciding which way to go. A part of him wished to take the route down through Sector Five; another part ridiculed him for being so foolish as to wish to see that prostitute again, certain she'd be occupied. It was a coincidence – nothing that could be followed up. And anyway, he hardly blended well in the slums; with his attire and understated wealth, he was asking for a mugging.

He dithered for a moment longer and then with a sigh turned to the right, making his way up the tidy street towards the main road through Midgar. The boulevard that served as the main artery of the city, rutted with carriage tracks and rimmed with mud, had been closed yesterday, unusually; and now, he saw from a distance the decided inactivity of the habitually bustling street. The road was blocked with waist-high wooden barricades marked with crudely-painted warnings; bored-looking city guards stood sentry at the gaps in the barriers holding mako lanterns or rubbing their hands together for warmth.

Approaching one portly uniformed man, Sephiroth allowed the tap of the cane and his boots to announce his presence, tipping his hat with the correct amount of deference.

"Excuse me, Sir," he addressed the man, though it was obvious from his alcohol-flushed face and shabby dress that he was not deserving of the title, "is there access here?"

The man shook his head, chest puffed up in importance. "Road's closed," he replied gruffly. "You'll have to go another way."

Sephiroth kept his expression indifferent. "Surely it can't be completely—"

"The road is closed, Sir, I apologise." Though he sounded anything but sorry; maybe he was pleased with the idea that he could talk down to someone so obviously of a higher class to him and get away with it. "And will remain so for as long as needed."

"Why?" Sephiroth didn't even bother making it sound polite, the man's superior attitude growing stale quickly. The officer shrugged and Sephiroth saw his smirk.

"'Fraid that's confidential, Sir. You'll know when it's open again." He motioned towards the scraggy-looking ranks of cabs waiting near the crossroads. "You can catch a cab if you're worried about soiling your shoes on slum mud."

Without a word, Sephiroth turned on his heel and swept away, inwardly furious at the man's disrespect. Maybe that was something he'd picked up from his father – a certain self-importance, the notion that no one could be so baldly rude to him and feel it justified. A fault, perhaps; Sephiroth was simply glad he hadn't seemed to exhibit any of Hojo's other peculiarities.

The road to Sector Five was as dark and damp as it had been last night, but the mists had faded a little and the air wasn't so thickly cloying. Sephiroth guessed it was the onset of colder weather; autumn tended to clear the air, until the heat from factory chimneys created new steam and fell down in the streets as a rolling sea of silver surf.

Lamps shone through the night, casting fuzzy shadows on the rough road surface and behind the girls who gathered once again around them and on alley corners like children afraid of the dark. Coming down the gritty pavement, he saw the group he'd passed yesterday and steeled himself to ignore their bawdy invitations.

And sure enough, they recognised him and called out, exposing dirty skin from beneath tightly-laced bodices and skirts, flicking greasy hair behind their ears as all their acquired skills fought to entrap him.

"Back again, Sir?"

"Did you find someone last night?"

"I thought I saw him down by the Red Lotus after he passed us…"

Sephiroth stiffened a little at that, trying to recall the name of the building he'd encountered Genesis outside of. The Red Lotus? It sounded familiar, but he couldn't place where from. It was immaterial anyway; brushing away their talk with a suave wave of his hand as he walked, he moved on through the ever-present thin covering of fog over the ground.

The Red Lotus. This time as he approached, Sephiroth had time to cast an eye over the crimson building, surprisingly like a more enigmatic replica of his own workplace. Of course, that was the result of the Revolution; construction had blossomed in Midgar with the influx of money pouring through the city, and even Sector Five had started off as neat and dignified as Eight; but swiftly the ravages of the poor's struggle to live had taken it over and now the veneer had all but faded from the glistening future promised here.

There was no one outside the brothel, not even potential customers weighing up whether they really wanted to take the final step in, or if their bank balances could weather the cost of their desires.

From what Sephiroth knew, they always gave in – what man could resist the satiating of his innermost lusts dangled in front of his eyes? In the raging of primal instinct, money was such a material worry, and with the amounts of it flooding the upper districts so many of the aristocracy found themselves addicted to debauchery here, unable to tear themselves away from the enticement of escaping to another world.

Was that beginning to afflict Sephiroth too? The lure of the enigma that surrounded Genesis – the woman who could recover so swiftly from an assault and still exude such self-confidence, who acted like a daughter of nobles with manners she could never have learnt from growing up in the slums… He'd always been attracted to mystery, his enquiring mind always questioning, making logic, finding a way around the problem until he possessed its secrets.

And yet, he felt, he would never truly understand Genesis.

He checked his watch; a quarter to ten. Last night he'd been here an hour later – was that when she had her assigned break? She wasn't here now, and the black doors of the Red Lotus showed no signs of opening; the air was chilled, a hint of rain in it, yet still Sephiroth didn't wish to move on yet.

His eyes caught every flicker of movement from the house; every roll of bawdy laughter muffled by the walls, every time a serving girl glanced out of a window as she moved past it, some noticing Sephiroth as he walked slowly down the road, some not.

His pace was so slow as to be barely moving as he struggled to decide what to do. Entering the place was out of the question – he wanted nothing in there, and he did not want to risk being captured into a deal he did not want to make by the cunning tongues of those who used them as their main tool.

Indecision gripped him as the certainty that he would regret leaving now slid into his mind; he didn't realise he'd come to a halt outside the door, staring at the dirty silver handle in deep thought.

A particularly loud wave of conversation roused him from reverie and he turned, moving over to an alcoved house on the other side of the street, facing the door. Nestling down behind the street lamp with a perfect view of the building opposite, he conjured up a fresh cigarette and lit it with a flick of the wrist against the matchbox.

**Scene II**

Genesis had found his mind wandering almost every second of the day that passed. Back to that beautiful stranger; the taste of eastern tobacco that he had dreamed of smoking since a boy, and the extravagant wealth of the clothes the man wore.

There was something special about him and Genesis was curious as to just what it was. No ordinary gentleman of such a obvious high standard as he would ask a prostitute's name, let alone turn away their services… Very bizarre.

His reflections had been far from unproductive – just pointless fantasies or whatnot romances. He had set a goal to achieve in his life, and so far this 'Sephiroth' had proved to be his first chance. Of course, if last night had been a pure coincidence, then all his rapidly germinating plans of seduction and dreams of wealth and vengeance were destined to remain left abandoned on the dusty bookshelves in his mind.

But such pessimism had no place in this epicurean paradise.

Instead, he set to the consuming thought of just how to make sure that that beautiful stranger was not a stranger for much longer. And what better way was there to get to know someone by sleeping with them? If they met on the street again, Genesis would coyly invite him inside, into the sensual realm of pleasure and teasing.

And into the web that had lain latent for years.

"Genesis?"

The redhead turned his head, meeting with a blue gaze as bright as his own, covered by a wispy layer of flaxen hair, wet with sweat. The haze of content went well with the rose tint of flushed cheeks that was not entirely down to Genesis' choice of lighting in the room. Smiling, Genesis brushed that fringe back with a lazy swipe of his hand.

"You seem a little distant tonight," Rufus stated bluntly. He pushed himself upwards and slid cleanly out of the redhead's relaxed body. Genesis gave a customary groan at the loss, as instant gratification for a man who paid more than Kunsel deemed he was worth every time he came.

It seemed, over the many months Genesis had been caught in the cage of the brothel, an exotic bird singing an echoing song for freedom, that men liked to hear such a noise. By now it was completely superficial, a habit that was once forced but flowed easily from his lips.

"Too busy deciding who's the better man?" the blonde questioned and stood, walking unashamedly naked – he knew he was attractive and had the money to not be judged for his arrogant, dissolute nature – over to the large carry-case that he had had hauled up the stairs earlier that evening.

For months, Genesis had played the battleground to sibling rivalry in the ShinRa household. Each week, Rufus and Lazard would try to trump each other, using bribes of perfume from Lazard and garments from Rufus in vain. Genesis constantly withheld his verdict, milking the blondes for all the gifts he could get.

Long ago, he had also diagnosed that the undertone to that rivalry was a mutual sexual frustration – perhaps why they chose to frequent Genesis and not some fanciful woman – between them, and they had far too much pride (it seemed) to resign themselves to it.

"Perhaps a little catalyst is needed to sway the beautiful jury in my favour?"

Smirking – knowing what was coming – Genesis crawled to the end of the bed and sat on all fours waiting. Rufus flicked the catches of the sage green case and unfolded the expensive, deep crimson fabric of yet another dress that was far too conservative and far too rich for any normal prostitute.

"It _helps_, Sir."

"Well, try it on."

"Of course, Sir." Genesis stood, and sauntered over to where Rufus stood in a way anything but obediently.

The practice of putting on a dress was a complex, but well rehearsed one, and Rufus certainly made it easier. His nimble fingers made quick work of the waspie Genesis wore to give his body shape and the row of metal clasps that fastened the blouse of the dress from the front.

Perhaps he had experience from the maids of his grand household, or whatever fine lady he could charm into spreading her legs. Such a thing was almost expected in the aristocracy; nonetheless frowned upon.

But as long as one had the skill and cunning to outsmart their elders for as long as it took; for those elders to stick their noses into business what was not theirs and would never be. Bitter memories flared up in Genesis' mind, bringing a frown to his features. The younger blonde frowned at his reflection in the mirror.

"You don't like it?"

"It's beautiful," Genesis remarked and ran his hands down his stomach, to where the skirts flared out around his hips, giving him a more feminine figure, one which fooled all on-looking eyes of the general public.

Rufus had always taken a special interest in Genesis' façade, going so far as to have the tailor stitch padding into the chest of the dresses to avoid as much suspicion as possible. Perhaps it was purely because he couldn't risk losing one of his biggest vices. Though Genesis wasn't the only male prostitute in the south districts, he was (it seemed) the only one who suited Rufus' fine tastes - he had beauty as well as a manner befitting a debutante.

The gentleman himself smiled, appreciating his good eye for style by running his hands up and down the exaggerated curves of Genesis' waist. The creamy skin revealed of Genesis' face and hands, and the top part of his neck under the shadow of his sharp jaw line, contrasted aesthetically with the deep red of the dress. They complimented each other. Genesis' lips were of an equally scarlet colour to the dress, flushed and swollen from passionately rough kisses. "It suits you."

When in the company of the Vice President of the most prestigious company in the city, even the most drunk of all the men downstairs made no forward advances on Genesis. They stared; sent contemptuous glances but made no verbal remark.

He liked the idea of being flaunted. The chosen whore of the richest young man in the city, and the whore that wore dresses many debutantes would rip each other's throats out to pose in for great artists. It was attention he thrived upon; a lifestyle he almost loved. If only he could drop the 'whore'.

The clock was chiming ten by the time the pair finally made it to the front door of the brothel. Rufus was first out, donning his top hat in a fluid grace before turning back again to Genesis. "I'll see you again next week." He took Genesis' face into his hands and pressed a kiss to already well-reddened lips.

Genesis allowed the touch for a moment before slipping his hand into Rufus' coat, stroking casually across his suit to the inner pocket where he always kept his payment. "Of course, Sir."

Smirking, Rufus tipped his hat once more and strode off back up to the upper sectors, swinging his walking cane at his side. Silently, Genesis wondered just what Lazard would bring him next, as soon as the younger blonde bragged to his brother about the gorgeous taffeta gown he'd adorned his favourite Babylonian jewel in.

Contented, Genesis leant back against the wall of the brothel, his usual spot half in- half-out of the shadows, and gathered up his skirts to pick out a cigarette and his matchbox from the tight grasps of his lace garter – also new, courtesy of Rufus. His bare fingers ghosted lightly over the purple mark of the boy's bite mark on his thigh from when he slid the small garment up the redhead's long legs. Genesis' skin was a canvas for men to paint their possession of him on, and yet only one could own him.

Sighing, he divided the notes he held in his hand and slipped one half between his flesh and crimson lace. The other Kunsel would take from him the moment the man smelt it and sought it out.

Now, left alone to his own ponderings, Genesis wondered if he had gained enough of Fate's favour to see a glimpse of silver walking through the mist towards him. And if all the silent prayers he had uttered for escape would finally be answered by whatever god chose to listen to him.

**Scene III**

The night was drawing close about Sephiroth as his cigarette burned down, and he began to wonder why he was still waiting. Did he really need to see Genesis again? She probably wouldn't even come back out tonight; the last evening must have been a one-off, a complete coincidence and therefore nothing that could be replicated.

In any case, why would he want to meet her again? Nothing could come from this; she was a prostitute, selling her love to the highest man with the fattest wallet, and – he laughed softly to himself – what on earth would his acquaintances say when he turned up to the next ball with a whore as his consort?

But something was different about her, something… more human than the mechanical routines of the other girls he'd met down here. There was some intangible quality about her that drew him in and made him seek more, an enigma that ached to be solved. But then again…

Just as he was about to stamp out the remains of his cigarette and leave, the doors to the Red Lotus cracked open and two figures exited; one he recognised keenly in great surprise, and one who was not so familiar but whom he had been envisioning all the long day. He stayed hidden as they stepped out fully into the street under the illumination of the lamp, inexplicably frozen.

Hoping the shadow of his hat concealed his face, even lit by the glow of the cigarette as he took a short draw, he kept still as Rufus ShinRa kissed Genesis goodbye and watched the heir to his employer saunter off down the street. He knew he really shouldn't be surprised; countless numbers of the rich businessmen in his class frequented this quarter, especially the unmarried ones. It was not for want of effort on his parents' part that Rufus was still single, Sephiroth knew the rumours said – from what he'd seen just now, it was because he was far more interested in keeping his single life and the dangerous secret of just who he spent one night a week with.

Sephiroth stayed in his niche until the tap of Rufus' expensive shoes had faded out of hearing and the bustle of the brothel had reasserted itself behind the door. A glance to the clock tower in the distance behind the Red Lotus told him that it was just after ten o'clock – so, if all went as it did last night, they would have an hour?

A strange anticipation ran through Sephiroth at the thought, but he pushed it aside, unwilling to recognise how much this one unusual girl had affected him.

Genesis seemed to be waiting for someone, or perhaps it was his imagination; he waited for a second, watching the smoke trails above her head before he drew out the last of his cigarette with a sigh and tossed it to the ground, grinding out the ashes with his foot.

"I see business is doing well then," he observed in a voice loud enough to carry across the street to Genesis as he emerged from his place into the ring of light cast by the streetlamp, a shadow of a smile tinting his lips so Genesis would know he was not speaking as disapprovingly as he felt. "If you have the likes of Rufus ShinRa at your beck and call."

She jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping her cigarette from between slim fingers in shock as she wheeled to stare into the darkness. As soon as she recognised him, however, a strange coy smile flit across her face and suddenly she was back to the self-confident, almost smug mood she'd been in last night.

"Hardly," she replied languidly, grinding out the glowing ashes of the abandoned cigarette with a sigh. "If I called him back now, he would laugh and tell me to wait. Or sate myself elsewhere." She shook her head, emanating silent despair and hopelessness at her situation; something inside Sephiroth softened with an emotion akin to pity. "I'm just a servant, Mr. Crescent, I have nothing over these people. I'm at their beck and call… I'm at their mercy."

Sephiroth let out a curt sound of amusement at that, knowing how true it was for himself as well. ShinRa were not forgiving employers – and if he somehow fell out of favour with them, for example by spending too much time with Rufus' whore… there were plenty of jobs available in this time of economic prosperity, but few as well-paid or prestigious as working for the illustrious Company.

"Then it seems we have more in common than one might think."

He noticed the remains of her cigarette scratched out on the pavement between them; shaking his head, with deft fingers he offered another as he had last night – maybe this was to become a habit. In which case he'd need to make sure he restocked his supply…

"I'm sorry I startled you," he said with a little smile. "Will this be enough for recompense?"

Her lips quirked upwards in a most charming smile as she took it, her sapphire eyes glittering in the light from the lamp when she looked up at him with such innocence. "It's recompense for me, Sir," she smiled and took the slim white stick in bare fingers. "But there is still my debt to you left standing. And debts are not advisable to have in this part of town."

She slipped the gift between red lips and silently demanded a light with an elegant tilt of her head. He half-expected the request, though none of the aristocracy girls would have dared ask for water if they were dying of thirst – and indeed, none of them had probably ever seen a cigarette apart from in their fathers' grip, and had never entertained thoughts of smoking one.

What she said was true, and one reason why a part of Sephiroth's mind was telling him to cut and run, not to form any attachment here in case she expected something of it; in case he was seen, in case Rufus came back. He reminded himself again that nothing could come of this - it could only end up in unwanted expenses and ties, too much complication in what up to yesterday had been a perfectly neat life.

… empty.

He brushed the thought from his mind and instead reached back into his inside pocket to pull out the little black box, holding it delicately in one hand while the other plucked out a slim honey coloured match. He noticed now, contrasted with the slums, how everything he owned was virtually dripping with wealth; the ebony-inlaid cigarette holder; the silk clothes, finest leather boots, sword from the forges beyond the Costa del Sol… he hardly blended with the locals, or the regular clientele with his natural appearance – so what was he doing staying here for longer than necessary, inviting an attack?

He only had to look at Genesis momentarily to answer that question. Her strange mix of coarseness and culture, rough and smooth, intrigued him; he found himself wondering ever more what her story was, how she came to be here. One did not pick up a taste for Eastern tobacco in the slums.

It was a mixture of danger, curiosity, and – he had to admit – attraction that was keeping him here. He did not want any more regrets in a life so full of them, when he thought about it; so he stayed where he was, and lit the match, and held the flickering flame under the tip of the cigarette perched so delicately between Genesis' lips.

"Debts are not advisable to keep in any part of town," he replied while waiting for the tobacco to catch.

**Scene IV**

Genesis' eyes glimmered with unconcealed excitement, closer to achievement than pure glee. He puffed at the cigarette, drawing oxygen into the mix to help the tobacco light. He'd gotten as much as a go ahead as he needed… not that he was really looking for one. A being as attractive of he could not be refused by anyone over time.

Letting his lips curve into a narrow grin, Genesis silently raised his hand and ghosted over the light fabric of garments clothing Sephiroth's side. It was smooth, like silk, like the material he used to live and sleep in.

There was significant muscle under there, the kind Genesis didn't get to feel that often, having to keep company with the rich who did nothing for themselves but sate their own needs. And even then, it was Genesis who found himself doing most of the work.

Eager to explore, though still wanting to save some surprises for later, when they wouldn't have some quick encounter in the dirty alleys like the hormonal dogs up the street, Genesis pressed harder, slipping behind the man and tracing the curvature of clothed buttocks without shame.

"Hmm, just tell me what you'd like me to do then," Genesis drawled, taking the cigarette between two fingers and pulling it from his lips. He exhaled casually, breathing fragrant smoke into the dank air. His fingers curved around to find the seam that ran down each leg of Sephiroth's trousers from the inside of his thighs. Genesis hummed, expression positively contented. "Anything you want, for free, Mr. Crescent."

Sephiroth seemed caught unawares by the touch, but he fought to disguise it. So much like the afflicted aristocracy to hide everything behind a mask. Nonetheless, his free hand crashed into the wall over Genesis' shoulder whilst the other replaced the smoking box back in his pocket; he reached down to take a hold of Genesis' hand somewhat ruefully.

"A kind offer," he said, still holding tightly onto that hand. "I may take you up on it at some later date, though I do not think it… appropriate now."

There was a reason echoing in that head, but the redhead didn't inquire of it. A man could only be pushed so far before he cracked – and in Sephiroth's case that probably meant leaving. And if he left that all of Genesis' little plans would wither before fruition.

Genesis watched passively, trying to decipher the man who was the first to ever not show an active interest in debauchery, let alone turn him down. The hand pressing next to him broke away from the wall and Sephiroth straightened up and bowed shallowly but politely to him.

It was yet another first, a gentleman being so courteous to someone so much inferior to themselves.

Genesis observed every one of the man's movements, surprised and shy. There was no demureness in his eyes; no playing with Genesis to tease him, or keep him playing his tricks to try to win him over. A smile crept its way across Genesis' face as he pieced things together. It was almost unsettling how easily he could read people in these sorts of situations: it exposed his experience in ways that he, as a well-bred male of aristocratic blood, should never have had - even if he had been as promiscuous as the next man.

But there was no use in commenting on Sephiroth's blatant, no matter how much he tried to hide it, inexperience and – dare he say it – virginity, knowing that he would perhaps take it as mockery. And Genesis, had he been in the position again, would not have suffered ridicule from a street whore. Instead, he worked on a momentary flash of a glance to the left, the direction in which Rufus had strutted off only minutes before.

It was such a quick look that Sephiroth was perhaps not even aware of it. He pulled his hand out of the man's gentle grasp and cupped his cheek. It was cold to the touch, telling of how long he'd been out waiting. Eyes softened, knowing that at least his initial spell of enchantment was utterly successful.

"If you're worried about getting on the wrong side of young ShinRa, you forget, I'm a whore. I have no attachments to anyone. If he wanted to keep me as his own, he'd house me in a fancy uptown hotel to keep me away from any other eyes," Genesis murmured, taking another breath from the cigarette. His tone was casual, stating facts which should already be obvious to the silver haired gentleman. His cluelessness, as it would seem to be, was endearing. It was a rarity, if ever seen at all, in these districts. "He keeps me here because he has too much fun driving Mr. Deusericus up the wall."

Bright green eyes widened at that, evidently slightly disconcerted by the revelation. Did they work together?

"I would not blame him for doing so," Sephiroth said quietly, a slight quirk to his lips. He stroked the back of one finger tentatively down Genesis' cheek. "But then again, such beauty should not be locked up."

Genesis was _so close_ to bridging the gap between them in that moment of silence that followed softly spoken words. Internally, the redhead melted into a mush of achievement and exhilaration. Sephiroth didn't seem the type to spout compliments often, especially to lowly street whores, so Genesis felt he had every right to feel just a little… conceited.

The sweet smell of money was so close; he could feel the brush of silk he hadn't have to have earned physically against his skin – not that the dresses were a reward from Rufus. It was a competition with his brother, that's all Genesis was. A clean slate to leave their marks on, leaving them for the other to see.

The ebony door behind them cracked open and Sephiroth jumped, startled, away from Genesis, trying in vain to wipe the guilty expression from his eyes as Kunsel stepped out, levelling his stare at Sephiroth as if the man had been caught stealing.

"Excuse me, Sir," he said in a most cold tone before turning to Genesis. The tone he used shouted his intention – clearly stating to Sephiroth that the pretty redhead would be otherwise busy for a little while, so would he kindly wait at the bar? Down a few drinks, sample the local working girls, perhaps?

Genesis' hand dropped heavily down to his side. Sephiroth had been intimidated by _Rufus: _what would he make of the man who actually owned Genesis, through some strike of awful luck? Hoping to sway Kunsel off his course with a large wad of notes, the redhead offered forth half the payment he had taken from the young ShinRa. From the corner of his eyes, he saw those eerily pale blues light up, but they remained shadowed with his lust.

"And the other half," the brunette said curtly and snatched the cash away.

Genesis returned his gaze to Sephiroth, sending another look of long suffering desperation. It was perhaps not as forced as some would suppose. After two years, Genesis had resigned himself to the fact that he was a prostitute, lusted after and paid for a little less than handsomely, but Kunsel just took him, and made him feel small, insecure.

The man was more of a father figure to Genesis than he would ever be aware of. Genesis hated him. Without thinking, his mind running on its own malice, Genesis lurched forwards and pressed his lips none too gently against Sephiroth's for a second of contact before Kunsel yanked his wrist back. "Good night, Sir."

"Now, Genesis!" It was rare that Kunsel said his name, preferring to use volume to catch his attention; he started to pull Genesis back into the brothel.

--

They hadn't even made it into a room before Genesis was shoved onto his knees. The contact they made with the thin carpet of the landing had a small gasp of ache drawn from his throat; a hand wrapped itself around his skull, tight in cinnamon red strands.

"You better not be doing what I think you're doing." Kunsel's mutter came out more of a hiss and he hastily unbuttoned his trousers, drawing that head of auburn hair closer. "Whores don't get the choice to fall in love. I have too much on you for you to forget that, _Rhapsodos_."

Genesis could restrain the flinch that came with the utterance of his name. Kunsel knew everything. One word in the right ears – not even those of the police – and he would never live to see the light of day again. He had no choice but to follow guiding hands and take Kunsel into his mouth and try his best to reinstate the cool, blasé disposition that the brunette was known for.

_[Exeunt]_


	3. Act III

**Warnings**: Um, Yaoi as always... mild substance abuse coming in the form of alcohol... cigarettes, prostitution, cross-dressing, maybe forced sex and whatnot. And violence. And AU-ness, of course.

**Disclaimer: **Characters not ours. Don't sue us, Chaos is too poor and Gee-String has to buy lots of cake.

**A/N**: WHY HULLO THAR POSSUMS! It's been forever and a day since we updated... well, about 3 months :) and it's all Chaos' fault because she's lazy meaning that Gee-String did most of this. It's also not Chaos' turn to write the AN, but she's doing it anyway. Enjoy the story, we do. And reviews are always loved. The more we get, the happier we'll be and a happy Chaos and Gee-String will wri~te mo~re.

Thanks to all those lovelies that have already reviewed, we love you lots and this sexy Act III is for you.

* * *

**Act III**

**Scene I**

Consciousness came around slowly for Genesis, like he was being pulled through a warm thick mist by a flock of butterflies. Their wing beats were quiet, calming and constant. It wasn't until a sufficient proportion of his mind woke that that rhythm was identified as his own heartbeat. His head still ached from all the tugging and yanking; jaw from all the angles and clenching his teeth together; body from too forceful treatment. Kunsel had never been so angry, letting the most drunk and influenced man downstairs have a go at the pretty enigma, knowing that they would be unable to remember anything about the previous night other than the colour of hair in front of them as Genesis pressed his own face into pillows to surround himself in his fantasy, telling himself that it wouldn't be long; it wouldn't long until he slept in his own bed, to wake early in the morning after a long, pleasant night's rest.

A bath solved a multitude of problems, soaking, cleansing and inspiring daydreams of having his own bathroom, with its own mirror and set of fresh towels at the side of the washbasin. He would be rich, and he was determined to prove it to Kunsel, whatever the man tried to do. Attempt to rape him: it was nothing Genesis hadn't had before. Take away his payment: the ShinRas would still shower him with hollow gifts - and Genesis hoped that nothing could take Sephiroth away.

-

Outside, the air was snappy and crisp and something Genesis hadn't truly felt in a long, long time. He hardly ever ventured outside the building when the sun was in the sky. Night was much safer, where shadows could further cloud the intentional blur of genders. It was safe now though, wandering a few yards from the back of the brothel (where Kunsel was still asleep) to a small dark alley filled with unwanted items from the rich and acquired useful novelties. Pulling his shawl closer around himself, keeping the chill away from his neck, not having a clean enough dress to wear with his usual high collar, Genesis quietly muttered in a flighty sing-song voice "There once was an ugly duckling…"

Moments later there was a clatter of metal and movement from deep inside the alley. A glimmer of silver and cream in the shadows. "Just how old d'you think we are?"

Genesis grinned and took a step back towards the brothel. "Old enough to identify something that might interest you." He waited a moment but saw no other glimpse of either of the young trio. Sighing, he turned around and made back for the building, and sure enough the telltale pitter-patter of small feet in battered shoes followed him back to the door.

His gloved hands immediately reached out for the four tiny glasses he'd taken from the bar earlier and the bottle of clear spirit. He poured it out in equal amounts and left them on a discarded crate on the alleyway side of the door and promptly sat on a wooden crate opposite. One by one, three small boys walked up, took a glass and sat on the floor in front of the much older redhead. Each one with a head of silver hair that would've been truly spectacular had they been given the chance to wash regularly. Seeing them, Genesis had to thank Kunsel for so much as giving him a bed to sleep in and a reasonable-enough quality of life.

"I have a favour to ask of you," he started, watching with amused eyes as the boys drank without even a wince from the strength of the alcohol.

The youngest looked at him with a cynical expression on his pretty, cherub-like face. "Payment first," he demanded. Genesis had to widen his grin. The cheekiness of Kadaj was always refreshing, like the rich child he had once been lived again in this sly street-rat. Genesis threw a bundle of food and a few coins to the siblings.

"You get the other half when you finish," he said. The three nodded, green eyes wide with excitement and admiration. No one treated them as well as Genny did, not even the one who gave them their alleyway nest in the first place. "Sephiroth Crescent. I want to know everything about him. His finances, his family, his home, his staff. Everything."

**Scene II**

Sephiroth woke to a pair of baleful ochre eyes glaring at him from the opposite pillow.

Startled by the sight, he jumped a little and the eyes widened in discomfort as their owner was disturbed, reshuffling her paws to settle back down again on the linen, still staring implacably at him. Finally realising what it was, Sephiroth sighed and flopped back down onto his previous resting place, one hand reaching out to ruffle between backwards-facing orange ears.

"Good morning, Susie," he yawned, and the cat's ears swivelled forwards again to listen, her eyes closing a little in satisfaction. "You startled me…"

Still rubbing her head, Sephiroth rolled his gaze to the other side of the bed, narrowing his eyes as the light hit them. It was bright and sunny, sharp winter sunshine bathing Midgar in deceiving illumination; it would be cold today, breath hissing out in clouds of mist before the people hurrying around in the streets below.

He wondered if, when he looked down from the window, he would see three little silver heads hiding somewhere in the vicinity – and sure enough, as he left the cat on the bed and wandered over to the shutters, through the wooden slats he saw them across the street. Three small urchins, barely ten years old, huddled inside a doorway, occasionally looking up at his window, breathing on their hands to warm them.

They disconcerted Sephiroth. He'd noticed them shadowing his every step for three days now; they'd suddenly appeared the night after he'd been back to see Genesis, who had apologised for 'Kunsel's' behaviour and again accepted the now-regular gift of a cigarette. The three had seemingly followed him back to his house, and now, everywhere he went – to work, to the main high street, back home through Sector Five – he was haunted by the faint skitter of running feet.

He'd considered accosting them, finding out what they were doing and for whom – but knowing how slippery street children were they'd escape long before he could catch them. In any case, he was wary of where he went and what he did in view of a window; the maid might have thought it odd he drew the drapes and closed the shutters earlier now, but he was sure she could attribute it to the onset of winter on Midgar. And in any case, it wasn't her job to wonder.

A cranky meow from behind him pulled him away to see Susie stretched out on the cover, flexing her claws with a pink tongue curling out as she yawned. Tail curved in a question mark, she padded over towards him when she noticed his attention, ears pricked forwards, demanding fuss.

"Food?" he asked, and got an impatient meow in response. A wry smile flicked across his face as he shooed her off and followed the waving tail downstairs, shrugging on a thick dressing gown as he went.

There was a telegram lying on the table that he had missed the night before, as frustrated and angry as he had been when he finally arrived home. He saw the sending address; his heart sank.

His parents, especially his father, had been so happy to get rid of him from their house that there had barely been any contact from them for a year, only briefly to ask if he'd been attending certain important functions in the social calendar; if his work was profitable; if he'd found a wife yet. There was never any mention of his or their wellbeing, and he strongly suspected that though the correspondences were signed from them both it was only Hojo who ever wrote them. Lucrecia was too meek, too easily overridden to object to her husband's wishes. Sephiroth had seen what an arranged marriage would do to a couple; which was why he'd always avoided the subject with them, determined not to provoke his father into thinking about it too much and making plans.

There had been so many times in his youth when he'd considered running away, and even attacking him and running away – but he had nowhere to go. So he'd stayed and suffered, becoming more and more detached from life every day as he simply gave up fighting against them and weathered it. The anguish he could see every day in his mother's eyes pained him; but any rebellion against his father was greeted with the back of his hand, harsh words spat from between gritted teeth. As soon as it was feasible, he'd escaped, using money he'd earned working his way up the ranks in ShinRa to buy this and live alone. At last.

Breaking open the seal on the telegram, he opened it out and scanned its contents with a barely noticeable sigh of resignation while Susie trailed around his legs. The usual; _I hope you are planning to attend the Christmas Ball at the City Hall in December_, _I trust your finances are still in good order._ But there was nothing about any sign of a fiancée so far – instead, a chillingly precise request – demand, more like – to visit their house on the other side of Sector Eight that weekend, eleven o'clock sharp.

_Something important to discuss?_ Somehow, Sephiroth knew there would be nothing to 'discuss'. His father would merely tell him something and he would have no choice but to obey his wishes; the thought made him shudder.

Setting the telegram down, he ventured out into the kitchen. It was empty; he knew it was the cook's day off, but the maid should still have been here. Fending Susie off with one foot as she weaved and rubbed against his leg, he glanced into the larder to see where the girl had gone. Just as he was about to call out, he heard voices outside the back door.

"You poor things, you're so cold! Here, come inside, I'm sure Sir wouldn't mind…"

The maid's voice grew louder as she approached the door and appeared in it framed by three grubby faces; three pairs of eerily bright eyes lit up simultaneously in a most odd manner. The girl froze and hastily curtseyed, blushing bright red.

"I'm sorry Sir! I thought it would be all right—"

Sephiroth silenced her with a wave, looking curiously at the children, who stared back at him obnoxiously; the only sound was Susie's incessant meowing. "Bring them in," he said at length. "We could not leave them out in the cold, after all."

**Scene III**

Every second that he could, without Kunsel or any others noticing, Genesis had taken to standing by the back door, waiting for a shrill meow too patterned to be that of a stray cat. He absorbed every ounce of information the three small boys gave him, ranging from Sephiroth's sleeping patterns to where he shopped and even what he ate for dinner. He did indeed work for ShinRa, quite high up, it seemed, just as Genesis had expected. He was single, and looked to remain that way. He lived with three others, a maid and a cook and a butler. The bare minimum suited Genesis well. Less people to worry about shooting their mouths off over their master's strange female friend who actually proved to be far from what she seemed.

Every night, when Sephiroth came to visit, the redhead had a hard time of keeping the smirk off his face, hiding it behind the cigarette, knowing that the man was practically soft clay in his hands. Like a fish caught on a hook, all Genesis had to do was reel him in. The waters were rough though, like a storm was growing ever nearer, threatening to sever the line completely.

Kunsel.

He allowed them little over ten minutes to themselves, as if purely to tease Genesis before he pulled him back inside and made sure he didn't forget his place, or get big ideas about running away.

-

Lazard's lips were warm against his neck for the parting touch, one last inhale of oriental spice on bare skin before he donned his hat and bid Genesis a farewell. Blue eyes followed the blond down the street until he vanished in the winter's swirling mists. He pulled his shawl back around his neck, hiding both the lack of natural cleavage and his Adam's apple. Kunsel had taken all of Rufus' decadent and convenient dresses and left nothing but something more suited of an upmarket whore with some, but not much, class. The moment Genesis had seen it, he wanted to skip his break and his unscheduled but clockwork meeting with Sephiroth, feeling utterly ashamed and giving Kunsel another victory in the hope that he would return his clothes. The dress was a dark pink, like the petals of a fuchsia with white ruffles around the hem of the neckline and sleeves. The neckline was low, exposing more flesh of his neck and chest than he had ever before.

He tried to shirk away the feeling of awkwardness, knowing he'd have to remain in his usual state to keep the ball rolling. Only desperation could show, a need to escape and a farce of affection that came in the form of a gentle parting kiss that had Kunsel's fingers winding tighter around his wrist with each second they were in contact.

Genesis waited under the light of the lamp that overhung his favourite spot, eager to sate his nicotine craving and reaffirm to himself that his plan was still working, and that his little trio had not scared Sephiroth off for good.

**Scene IV**

It was chilly again, so Sephiroth quickened his step to generate a little more warmth. In the alleys tonight he saw the glows of braziers and the shadows of people huddling around them, holding out hard-worn hands to the guttering flames in an attempt to heat them up. The sight made Sephiroth immeasurably glad to be able to return to his own home; he had comfort, the basic necessities to live on more than subsistence. Something that the three children had obviously coveted when they entered, bunching around the maid as she fetched scraps of bread and broth for them at Sephiroth's grudging agreement. He'd stayed in the kitchen with them, watching them while Susie fed, mistrusting their ability to slip away from the maid. He didn't want any of his possessions missing, after all.

They hadn't seemed interested in that though, their beady little eyes most often returning to him himself. He'd returned their gazes steadily, refusing to be defeated; refusing to show any weakness. The girl had sat with them almost protectively, her eyes flickering nervously between her master and the children though there was no chance of Sephiroth replacing her for this indiscretion. What was a few chunks of bread to him? Indeed, he'd been curious to see his shadows close up; he hadn't had a chance to interrogate them, but now he felt a little more comfortable with the feet tapping along behind him at all times. That smallest one, who seemed to also be their leader, looked shifty though – that one, Sephiroth thought, would not hesitate to slit his throat if he got close enough.

Clicks from his shoes on the road echoed between the walls and soon were joined by another pair coming from the other direction. Sephiroth looked up to see none other than the unmistakeable figure of Lazard ambling towards him; he knew he couldn't suddenly veer off course now – Lazard had seen him – and so he continued on, trying not to let any expression onto his face.

"Good evening, Mr. Crescent!" Lazard greeted him with a wry smile. "A fine one, is it not?"

"A little cold for my tastes," Sephiroth replied stiffly, letting no emotion seep into his voice. Lazard grinned widely.

"I suppose you're about to make it warmer, hmm?" The blond laughed at Sephiroth's discomfiture and carried on walking. "Enjoy it!"

With a slight shudder Sephiroth turned and walked on down the street, spying Genesis in her customary position by the wall, pulling a shawl around her shoulders uncomfortably. Moving up to her with a flash of a smile, Sephiroth only slightly awkwardly brushed a kiss across her cheek, presenting her with the customary cigarette at the same time.

"Good evening," he said.

A smile painted itself on Genesis' frustrated features the second warm lips breathed a tender touch across her cheek, part of her anxiety perhaps whisked away under a sense of security. Blinking and realising that she'd been stood there grinning for more than a moment, she graciously took the cigarette and leant to brush a lock of stray hair behind his ear.

"It's been a week since I first met you, Mr. Crescent," Genesis announced and pointed the unlit cigarette in an accusing manner at him. The gesture was a little too rude to be an action of a lady. But the surroundings, and her new style of dress, was more than enough to remind Sephiroth that this pretty creature was far from that social clique.

With a smirk her left hand ventured into Sephiroth's coat and pulled out his matchbox. "A whole week and my debt is _still_ outstanding - growing, even, with all your exquisite company." Instead of drawing out a match and igniting it, Genesis' hand stayed close to Sephiroth's jacket.

There was a momentary glimmer in blue eyes, and she suddenly grabbed the gentleman with full force; with a tight grip on his jacket, she pulled him closer. "I want to start paying you back-" The first of many kisses rained down on Sephiroth's lips. "- Until - you say – enough."

Sephiroth's eyes widened as Genesis threw herself on him but he could not bring himself to push her away. Instead an unexpected surge of energy overcame him and he pushed back against the kiss, moving her back against the wall to gain leverage. Her taste was sweet, no doubt tainted with others'; but for the moment he didn't care, savouring and committing to memory the spicy tang suffusing his senses.

He laced his fingers with hers on the hand holding his matchbox, trapping the silver casket between their palms as he pushed it against the bricks behind her; the whole of her body pressed against his, asking without words for something he found he was only too content to give.

His eyelids sliding down over his gaze, overwhelmed at the sensations she was provoking, he broke away for shallow breath and moved his lips down to her neck, discovering the fluttering pulse under skin that tasted of spice and salt; he was glad that tonight she happened to be wearing a dress without the unusual high collar as normal. It gave him the opportunity to marvel at what kind of sounds could be produced when he kissed here, nipped a little there, breathed on that spot… it was unlike anything he'd experienced before, the feeling of having someone under his control so intimately who wanted it – who responded so well to every silent request, even though he knew quite well it was her job.

The thought was brushed out of his mind immediately as he moved back up to her mouth, closing his eyes to feel everything so much more.

"You're welcome to," he said at length, breaking away with a hiss of exhaled breath, brushing her fringe away from her eyes with one hand to see bright glittering eyes. "I don't think… I've quite been reimbursed yet."

Genesis' lips were flushed and spread into a dazed grin. It was surprising to see how such a surprised expression could pass across the one that had initiated such a fervour-filled action, one of the likes Sephiroth had never encountered before but one a girl of the redhead's occupation must be much more than used to by now.

After a moment's pause, the hand that Sephiroth held against the wall tightened, and the other threaded deeply into his silver hair to comb through it casually and confidently. The silence was somewhat eerie: Sephiroth had no clue what was going on inside that head; of the things the girl could be planning – things that he had no experience of, and he was fearful of humiliation of her finding out that fact.

Breath by breath, the rise and fall of her chest began to slow, but not to the regular pace. She continued to stare with bright blue eyes, unrestricted, into Sephiroth's feline green. He only wished he knew what she saw.

"Just tell me what you want, Mr. Crescent." The whisper was drawled and sultry. The hand slid out from Sephiroth's hair and down his chest, finding yet more muscle under luxurious tailored fabric. "Anything you want."

"Hmm," Sephiroth replied, shifting to slide his other arm around Genesis. He didn't know what he was supposed to say; the dry, prudish upbringing he'd suffered had offered no opportunity for education of this kind. Indeed, even so far everything Genesis had done was completely new to him – the only types of kisses he'd experienced had been the awkward greetings at social gatherings, dry and unemotional and nothing like this.

He pretended to ponder the question while inwardly panicking, tapping his fingers gently on hers in a rhythm. He didn't want to seem inexperienced now – his assumption, after years of being ridiculed and tormented by Hojo, was that she would laugh, dismiss him for a fool, and never deign to talk to him again… and, strangely, he found that prospect was dark, sending a little thrill of discomfort through him.

So he blinked slowly and looked back into her eyes, tilting his head slightly as he leaned forwards to brush a momentary kiss against her lips, the warmth of her body radiating out into his to contradict the coolness of the night air.

"Do whatever you like," he said, and prepared to give over himself completely for the first time in his life. For some reason, he trusted her.

"You can always say no if you want," Genesis muttered. So quietly and demurely, it filled Sephiroth with comfort, like he wasn't completely out of control; that he still held the reins over the girl's actions, whatever she chose them to be.

She seemed to notice his evident uneasiness, which came as no surprise. Experienced with so many men, she could surely read them like open books. As a distraction, she pressed their mouths back together; her tongue ran languidly over Sephiroth's bottom lip as she switched their positions, pressing the gentleman back against the wall.

With a grace earned by practice, Genesis sank to her knees in front of Sephiroth, running her hands down slim sides and pressing flighty kisses that were hard enough to be felt against his body as he descended. She continued down, teasingly slowly until meeting her target, straining for freedom against the weave of his suit's trousers; it was all he could do to stay upright and keep his legs from buckling.

Genesis pressed her lips around the bulge just to get a feel; see the reaction, and make each ministration linger. Hands stopped their downward journey at sharply angled hips, thumbs drawing tight circles against clothed flesh. "If Sir wants, I can tend to this?" She made sure that her lips brushed Sephiroth's concealed manhood with every syllable.

"If you'd be willing," he replied in a gasp, struggling to keep any shred of dignity or restraint. He unclenched one fist enough to reach down and weave his fingers into her crimson hair, unconsciously tightening his grip as her hands moved down from his hips…

And the doors to the Red Lotus banged open, framing that brunette again. Storming out of the building, icy blue eyes flamed in fury and he strode to them, knocking Sephiroth's hand aside to yank Genesis' head back away from him.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" The words were venomous, echoing between the listening houses up the street. "Get away!"

Sephiroth wasn't sure whether the last two words were directed at him or Genesis, who was trying in vain to escape from the man who had her crushed against his side with her head pulled back, but he wasn't going to stand for it.

"Excuse me, you can't—"

"I bloody well can, thank you!" The man spat at him, his eyes burning a hole through Sephiroth's, his stance plainly aggressive and oozing with anger. "If you're going to get serviced by one of our whores, we conduct business inside, so you are in the wrong here, _Sir_." He threw out one arm to gesture inside the brothel, his manner so disrespectful that Sephiroth's left hand flew to the handle of his walking cane instinctively.

"I do not appreciate your tone," he said dangerously, twisting the handle and preparing to pull it off. "I'd prefer it if you desisted in this course…"

"I'd prefer it if you fucked off, thanks," the man replied, dismissing him with a twist of a sneer. "Get back to your posh place up in Sector Eight, with all your filthy rich friends! You don't belong here if you're not willing to pay."

Wrath rising in him at the grievous slights this man was offering, Sephiroth strode forwards and pushed him roughly on the shoulder. "Look here—"

"Genesis is my property and you were stealing, Sir," the man interrupted, that patronising smirk plastered back on his face. "Unless you want me to come and do the same back to your precious belongings, I suggest you bugger off now!"

"You can't own—"

"Signed, sealed and delivered, Sir, and I have the papers to prove it. You have nothing on me, now get – lost."

The last two words were punctuated with a shove and a rise in the man's volume, and he began to drag Genesis back into the brothel roughly, turning his verbal wrath onto her.

Sephiroth was powerless to do anything, knowing that he had no rights here. If he attacked the man there was no doubt street thugs would come after him – and though he knew he could easily best any of them, Sephiroth did not particularly want to become a murderer, no matter how much his left hand itched for the brunette to fall under his blade right now.

**Scene V**

Kunsel had been many things in the two years Genesis had known him, but this angry was certainly not one of them and more so than the previous night. So far from his usual blasé, relaxed disposition, so far from the respect he usually showed for his biggest earner. And he showed no intention of stopping, his fingers twisting in Genesis' hair with each utterance that came from Sephiroth's mouth in his defence. It got to the stage where Genesis was going to resign himself to the struggle and tell Sephiroth to stop, or kill the man swiftly to end everything. Instead, too soon, he found himself locked back up in the brothel. Men glanced at them for a moment before returning to their drinks, merry. Surely they had heard the confrontation? It must've seemed like some dramatic production of theatre and nothing more than a means of entertainment.

Kunsel yanked on his arm, sending a jolt of pain through him, just to have him back on his feet.

"You really are incapable of understanding, aren't you?" the brunette hissed and pushed Genesis in front of him through the bar to the small private portion of the building where the attempt at a kitchen and dining room were kept. As soon as they were in there, the door shut in a façade of privacy, Genesis was pressed face first into the old wooden table. Glasses and plates rattled with the force of the motion in which he hit it, effectively stealing the air from his lungs.

"You're not an aristocrat anymore, Rhapsodos. You don't rule your own life."

Kunsel's hand was hard on the small of Genesis' back, keeping him pinned to the table, keeping him in control. "But you do play the part of a whore so well."

Genesis' blue eyes caught the glimmer of a knife only a few feet away from his hand. Silently it beckoned to him, promising liberation and a stop to the constant humiliation. He was born of fine blood in a respectable, rich family. _He_ was meant to be visiting whores late at night, not being one of them, let alone posing as a woman every hour of every day just to escape the glare of the law. But if he killed Kunsel now there would be a dozen respectable witnesses (no matter how drunk they may have been) to prove Genesis' motive and his entire plot and dreams would be wasted away on a moment of hot-headed irrationality. He would endure, and wait, and wait and endure until he was out of this place, drinking eastern tea and smoking classy cigarettes on a painted veranda of a countryside estate. Kunsel would rot in the slums, scrounging a living off his diseased rats.

"He's working up quite a debt, that young man. Make him pay up."

With a grunt, Kunsel jerked his head back up, glaring straight into his eyes, and was thoroughly unsatisfied with the silent bitterness he saw in them. Genesis wouldn't give into him just yet, being taught unknowingly by his parents to bottle up resentment and anger until the opportune moment. "Get out of my sight."

The hand dropped from his hair and Kunsel turned away. Genesis pushed himself up and pulled himself together, and made for the door, eager to get upstairs and sleep the night away, submerse himself back into his fantasy of disposing of his owner as much as revelling in his ambitious slyness that had tricked one of Midgar's finest into loving him.

**Scene VI**

The slam of the door set crystals in the chandeliers tinkling, as if trembling in fear at the malevolence Sephiroth radiated as he stormed inside, throwing off his coat and hat and stalking through to the dining room. His mood was only alleviated marginally when he saw the bottle of wine already set out on the table with a glass along with the rest of the cutlery; but he didn't feel like eating. Seizing the emerald bottle by the neck, he swung around and into the living room, throwing himself down angrily on the sofa and swishing back a measure of ruby liquid straight from the bottle.

It was frustration as well as a crushing sense of inadequacy that fuelled his wrath, he knew, and it was as useless as the tantrum of a child. He couldn't have done anything. As Kunsel had said, he had no rights in that situation – he was merely a customer, but not even that – and Kunsel was Genesis' owner in all including name, with full power over her and who she saw. The predicament reminded Sephiroth horribly of his own father – and suddenly he remembered the telegram he'd received, lying discarded on the oak desk on the other side of the room.

He swore vehemently and fell back into the upholstery, railing at how everything had suddenly and abruptly gone wrong. Genesis was gone, maybe even now being abused by that bastard; his father would have his head for neglecting to visit them, expecting his orders to be followed to the letter every time; his foot ached from how hard he'd kicked the brothel wall in frustration as the doors clunked shut, and there was nothing at all he could do.

The wine was helping now, dulling his senses so he couldn't feel the burning anger so keenly. The rich smooth flavour swilled in his mouth and down his throat, but even in that he could taste her; bitterness rose in his throat, overriding the taste of the wine, and in a sudden burst of fury he kicked over the small table near him, scattering books to the floor like fallen birds with their wings spread. The action didn't relieve the frustration, but siphoned away most of the anger. He found himself slipping down into a dark melancholy, and it was only when the bottle was empty that he dragged himself up to bed.

_[Exeunt]_


	4. Act IV

**Warnings; **Yaoi, cross-dressing, violence! Cats!

**Disclaimers; **characters not ours but goddamn if they were I would not need to do all these exams to get anywhere!

**A/N; **GOOD MOANING DEER READERS! Bet y'all forgot about this! Finally, it is the mighty Gee-String's turn to write the AN, after such a long time of not doing so D':

A quick update on progress – we've almost finished the writing of this whole thing, saddening as it is to do so ); But fear not, for you lovely people have a long… long… time left before we get it all on here! So hopefully once we've finished it, we can have Acts out quicker, unless we get distracted by the next project – which is a right beauty ;D

Much love for all you who've reviewed and waited so patiently for this!

Enjoy~!

**Act IV**

**Scene I**

Morning came too quickly and brought a sour taste in his mouth, the lingering effect of too much wine the evening before. With a muffled curse, Sephiroth threw a bitter look at the clock – he was running later than usual already, but he felt too lethargic to bother waking up properly and facing the real world. With the harsh awakening from the dreamlike state Genesis had been coaxing him into the night before by Kunsel, Sephiroth did not feel quite ready to venture out again.

But he could not hide away all day simply because he had been disappointed; a rumbling purr rolled out from the cat on the end of the bed as he rolled over and out, dressing quickly and hurriedly. On the way downstairs the maid caught him; her eyes were fearful again, no doubt wary of the simmering anger he'd exhibited the night before. A moment of remorse crossed him for the behaviour he had been displaying these past few nights - if he was not careful, someone would work out that something was off, and god forbid his parents ever found out about his new friend…

"Good morning, Sir," she said in a timid voice, and Sephiroth nodded in acknowledgement, not feeling up to talking around the headache rolling dully in his skull. "This came for you…" She handed him another telegram, again stamped with the mark from Sector Eight. Sephiroth took it with an inward groan but didn't speak his apprehension, knowing it would be improper to exhibit such a show of disrespect for the author of the message.

"Thank you," he said in a flat voice and, taking his accoutrements, swept out of the door.

He didn't open the letter until he was safe in his office, having neatly avoided Lazard and brushing everyone else he saw off perfunctorily; with the bitter irritation its contents provoked, he was glad he had done so.

_Sephiroth, _

_We did not see you last weekend: we assume that something very important detained you, or else we are certain we would have had your presence. Please visit this Saturday at the aforementioned time, or we should be very disappointed. There is something of the utmost importance to your future we must discuss._

_Your parents._

**Scene II**

It was almost a pleasant change to wake up with the only ache being that lingering throb in his head from Kunsel's malicious fingers. Genesis' own hand made its way into his hair, feeling a profound lump in his scalp that tingled when he touched it. It would go down in time. The light was dim in the room, the curtains still half drawn and moth eaten. It must've been midday already, judging from the noise outside. If Kadaj and his brothers were right, which Genesis never doubted, Sephiroth would be hard at work until half past the hour, then he would venture out for some luncheon for an hour, then go back to work until the evening, when he would come to visit the redhead during his break. Although, Genesis had to wonder: would he after last night?

Had he been in Sephiroth's position, he certainly would not have stood for such insubordination from Kunsel. He only did now because he had to. Better live with the grief than be cast out on the streets until Sephiroth took him in.

The plan Genesis had hatched the previous night was genius, but the process would be long, and he was unsure if he could really contain his temper again like he had last night if Kunsel was going to pull that card again. Perhaps a catalyst would come into use, speeding up the procedure and letting Genesis find himself satiated in more ways than one.

Blue eyes scanned the room, surprised to find that all of Rufus' dresses were back in the wardrobe that remained open. Perhaps Kunsel's attempt at a half-hearted apology for his behaviour. Even he knew that pushing Genesis so far would only result in disaster - blackmail backfired sometimes, even on a master.

Late afternoon, after eating and contemplation, Genesis wandered back to the door at the rear of the building, seeing a flash of silver dart behind a pile of rubbish. The boys were always skittish, never wanting to be seen by any eyes that they did not know. Luckily for them, orphaned street urchins were so common that even if they were seen, they were not committed to memory or even registered in the minds of those who caught a glimpse. But as soon as the child saw the dark decadent shades of his dress, knowing that it was far too refined and sophisticated for that of a common whore, even those others under Kunsel's employment, he called his siblings out. To save them from the cold weather of the day, and waiting outside of the ShinRa company building for hours on end, Genesis had called them back to their home, until Sephiroth left for his home after Kunsel's arrival at ten past ten each night.

"I have another favour to ask of you three," Genesis started and poured out another four glasses of spirit, leaving them in their place. "A challenge that you might enjoy."

Kadaj took his glass and sat down to drink it. His eyes were curious, but still hard.

"Concerning Mr. Crescent?" There was nothing in that voice but a cold expectancy that belied his age. Part of Genesis expected there to be some fondness for the man who had taken them into his house and fed them. And had not turned on them in the time they'd spent shadowing him.

Genesis nodded. "You tell me he has a pet cat?" The three simultaneously nodded. The redhead actually struggled to remember if he had ever heard the older two children's voices other than quiet additions to Kadaj, or a thanks to their would-be beneficiary. "I want you to bring the cat here."

"Catnappin'? When?"

Pausing for a moment, Genesis weighed up his options before simply saying "Tomorrow."

With that, the boys stood and vanished back into the tattered wilderness and Genesis knew he had nothing to do but wait until his break to see if Sephiroth would still be drawn to this place, like a moth to a flame.

**Scene III**

Dread crept up on him as he walked down the street towards the Red Lotus, seeing the empty spot where usually Genesis would be waiting, looking up and down the street in the darkness. There was still the normal hubbub from the brothel, customers laughing and calling out as they enjoyed their evening; the girls bustling back and forth with ale, wine, requests. Sephiroth cast an eye around the area in case Genesis had just chosen to rest somewhere further away from the door and the reaches of Kunsel; but she was nowhere to be seen in the light cast by the lantern. For a moment he thought he saw movement in the foggy alleyway down the side of the building – but he dismissed it, thinking it a trick of the mist.

With a resigned sigh he settled back into the doorway across the street and lit up a cigarette, eyes fixed on the Red Lotus' entrance. So intent was he that he didn't notice the figure slink out of the alley to the side of the building, dark and hulking and oozing malice. It was only when the man stepped into the pool of light by the window, clearly coming straight towards Sephiroth, that he paid attention. Danger flared in the air and he stepped out of the doorway cautiously, hand flying to the top of his walking cane in suspicion.

"Can I help you?" he called as the man kept walking indomitably towards him, something clasped in one beefy hand. There was no answer; but as he drew closer Sephiroth recognised with a faint shudder the man who he had prevented raping Genesis last week, with intent clearly written in his beady black eyes.

"You should keep your nose out of business that ain't yours," the man said and suddenly leapt for him, a short, wicked pocket knife glinting in his hand and flying straight for Sephiroth's eye.

The silver-haired man jumped aside, at the same time drawing his sword, and his attacker thumped into the rough wall. Furious with the mistake, he turned and advanced again, swiping across Sephiroth's body with a powerful strike; but it was dodged and caught on the hilt of the rapier, cast aside with dexterity born of years of training.

"We don't have to fight," Sephiroth said, twisting the blade so the man was drawn towards him and then catching him in a vice-like grip by the knife wrist. "You can walk away now…"

The other spat at his face and Sephiroth inwardly swore but said nothing, tightening his grip in disgust.

"You don't belong here," the man hissed, his dirty face contorted in hatred. "You have no right to be interfering in things not your business!"

With the crescendoing shout he shoved Sephiroth away, following up while he was off balance with a slash that nicked him on the cheek. As warm blood trickled down his skin, Sephiroth ignored the sting and regained his footing, countering the attack with a flurry of warning strikes, only inflicting light incisions. He'd been taught how to fight without wounding – indeed, it was the only way the upper classes duelled in fencing – and he used the skills now to try and frighten the man off. He didn't want to kill, only teach him a lesson; he didn't want the implications of this coming back on him again, just like his rescue attempt had done now.

With a yell like a wounded bull his attacker pushed back his assault, falling on Sephiroth with his fists as well as the knife, brutal and undisciplined in his blind rage. Sephiroth kept up his guard, batting the man off with the shell of the cane as well as his sword, but such determination was difficult to assuage and the cobbles were rough and slippery with condensed mist. He slipped and fell backwards, narrowly missed by a thundering punch, and managed to catch the man in the hip with the heel of his boot. The blow shoved the other off balance and he twisted instinctively to comfort the pain. Sephiroth took the opportunity to push himself upwards; the steel of his sword slid cleanly through the flesh of the man's arm and with a scream he arched away, dropping his knife in agony as he clutched his wounded limb.

Ignoring the throb of the grazes on his hands from the fall and the cut on his face, Sephiroth flowed to his feet and as the man was distracted punched him squarely in the head with his right fist. His opponent's eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed without a sound, his head making a sickening crack against the cobbles. Sephiroth looked down on him, breathing fast from adrenaline and exertion, and shook out his right hand where blood dripped from the split skin on his knuckles.

"I'll be the judge of what's my business, thank you," he panted with a twist of a smile.

**Scene IV**

Business was slow that night; only one regular client bothered to show up to their session upstairs. The rest of the time Genesis had to spend downstairs, playing games of teasing with drunk men too busy trying to forget the day at work to care about sly hands slipping into their wallets to steal a few more notes than they should. They didn't have to know, but Kunsel advised they should regard it more as 'tipping' than stealing.

Money was money to Genesis, no matter whose it was and how he came by it. If he had held such morals as others did, he wouldn't have been engaging in the most shameful of sports. But toying with hearts was just something he'd always been good at.

Keeping an eager eye on the time, from the large clock closer to the bar, Genesis counted down each minute till his break, when some poor girl would have to take a seat upon a man's lap and attempt a conversation with said man's tongue down her throat. Although, Genesis was the only one who tried to engage in an intellectual manner with customers, and often in vain. Aside from Lazard, there was only Rufus who showed any interest in Genesis' other services from time to time, maybe even enjoying some recital of poetry as they undressed - but it seemed from what the older, illegitimate ShinRa had told him, Rufus was that night being showered with prospective wives, even at his young age. Such a virile young man should sire children before contracting some awful disease from his downtown whores.

The chimes of the clock tower outside were lost under the babble of the bar, but the clock that Genesis was besotted with announced the time so clearly as though it was all blue eyes could see. He pushed away the hands that were gripping onto his thighs, crawling ever closer to what was off limits without Kunsel's expressed go ahead – which Sephiroth seemed to have gotten, as long as he paid up – and stood, apologising to the amorous but evidently disappointed drunk he'd been entertaining for the last half hour.

Kunsel was at the bar, watching him as he made his way to the door, and only made a crude gesture of payment with his fingers when Genesis spared him a glance. The redhead nodded and left the hectic building. The cold air of the street was welcome; he inhaled air that was far from fresh, but much cleaner than cheap cigarettes and sweat.

Heavy breathing had his eyes flashing open, and as much as he was expecting to see Sephiroth there, despite the previous night, he had not expected him to be leaning against the far wall, panting. His skin glistened dark in the lamplight. At his side, his sword was exposed, also moist… and red.

"Mr. Crescent!" The redhead jumped forwards, ignoring the unconscious body that laid motionless on the cobbles to Sephiroth's right. The man was bleeding, from various cuts and wounds, eyes dilated betraying his condition. "What happened?" he asked, glancing down at the comatose male. He was breathing lightly, bleeding out from a wound to his arm. But that would be the least of his worries. The cold would get him first if he did not wake. The same for Sephiroth, if Genesis didn't pull together - cuts and grazes were too easily infected in places like this.

"You should get home, clean these cuts and sleep the rest off."

**Scene V**

Sephiroth laughed heavily, breathlessly, only gathering his breath back slowly in the cold, thin air. "Don't worry," he said with a wave of his bleeding hand. "I'll be fine." He knew the lie for what it was; his strength was flagging strangely, and his head was light with the mixture of the blood dripping to the pavement and the after burn of adrenaline in his system. He pushed his left hand against the wall to steady himself and shoved himself upright, sheathing the rapier blade with a shaking hand. "Your company is enough to cure the most grievous of wounds."

It didn't seem that Genesis agreed; with a harsh tut she inspected his injured hand and then his cheek, glittering eyes narrowed in concern glaring at his impertinence as to get himself wounded. "I see I'll have to come back with you to make sure you do it," she said, brooking no opposition.

With a chuckle Sephiroth acquiesced, for once glad of the practicality of the cane rather than its usefulness as a weapon as weariness overcame him. Using it as a support, he accepted Genesis' arm around his waist as they began walking.

"It was the man who tried to assault you last week," he explained, feeling a little strength return to his muscles with the rhythmic motion of walking and the cold air numbing his wounds after the initial sting. "He said I had no business interfering…" A shake of his head showed his disgust and his pace increased momentarily in anger. "I wish I had killed him. Perchance the city will do it for me; it would be no loss."

He reached up one hand to wipe away a dribble of blood from where it had rolled down to on his chin, the thick liquid horribly warm on his skin, and rubbed it off between his fingers. "Maybe you were right," he admitted grudgingly, surprised himself at how the wounds were bleeding now with movement. He didn't much care for fussing and mothering over cuts and scrapes; but who knew where that knife had been, and what he could have picked up from the street when he fell? Better safe than sorry, as they said.

His knuckles ached as he fumbled inside his coat for his keys when they reached his house finally, accidentally smearing blood onto the silk lining. A tut of disapproval at the mess; then he slipped the right key eventually into the lock, no mean feat with trembling fingers, and let them into the lamp-lit hallway.

**Scene VI**

Sephiroth's house was pretty much everything Genesis had been looking forwards to moving out into when he came of age, and that was the assumption he reached just from the façade alone. Magnolia white, with a dark door – a fanciful golden knocker high in the centre and dark curtains lining each of the windows that faced out to the road. One light was on, on the ground floor, which, if Genesis remembered the floor plan to the abode of an old acquaintance of his, would have been the drawing room. The maid was probably busy preparing for her master's return.

Inside, Sephiroth's wealth dripped from the walls. Furniture, though sparse, was fine; solid rosewood, and polished until it gleamed. Carpets were thick, soft and a welcome change to the frozen cobbles and paving stones of the journey here. As soon as Genesis shut the door and returned to supporting Sephiroth, the maid appeared from the doorway that led off the reception hall to the drawing room. Her face was small and pale, and she wore a clean, crisp white and black uniform. Confusion and concern wiped across her features and she took a step closer. "Is Sir-"

Genesis gestured for her to stay where she was with a simple flick of his wrist. "He'll be all right, I just need some spirit and cloth… and gauze."

She nodded and scuttled upstairs. Sephiroth gestured after her, Genesis guessing that was where the bathroom was. Step by step they struggled up the stairs, which were steep in the slim terrace houses of the city. Genesis was glad that he had the strength to aid the man walk and remain upright, but hoped that this strength – perhaps too much for a woman – would go unnoticed.

Sephiroth seemed a little strange, understandable from the concussion his eyes spoke of, and thus all the small details may be forgotten come morning. Genesis hoped at least. Although, his secret could not remain a secret forever if Sephiroth was going to envelop him in richness and liberation.

As with most houses, the bathroom was the last door down the landing, the maid already laying out necessities by the time the pair got there. She stood up straight the moment they entered.

"Thank you," Genesis nodded, knowing that posing as a woman, and a commoner, he'd need to show a certain level of respect and kindness to a member of the same gender, even if she was the help. She was employed though, in a respectable job, rather than selling herself to the highest, trustable bidder. "Would it be possible to make Mr. Crescent a warm drink, to help him sleep?"

"Yes, Miss." The blonde girl scuttled past them, curtsying as she did so before returning downstairs.

A smile couldn't help but sneak its way on Genesis' face. The girl showing such respect, she probably had no idea that he was a regular street whore: then again, there was nothing giving him away – his dress back to the high-class high collared taffeta fashions Rufus gave him. Dare he say it, he almost fit in with the inhabitants of this part of the city.

He sat Sephiroth down on the rosewood toilet lid, immediately turning to the counter top where the maid had left a bottle of clear spirit next to a series of flannels. One of these flannels, a soft cotton weave from the eastern continent, Genesis wet under some warm water from the gleaming silver tap in the wash basin. Then, turning back to Sephiroth, he knelt to initially clean the wounds. A cut to the cheek; the telltale marks of broken skin from a skilled punch and a few tender areas that would wake to be bruises in the morning. The ethereal beauty was a bruised fruit, and would remain so until the wounds healed, letting all see what he had been up to one night. All for Genesis, nonetheless.

Blue eyes softened as he tended to the cuts, gently. "Why? Why would you risk yourself for my sake?"

Green eyes were fastened on the wash basin at Genesis' side, as if he'd never seen his own blood before. Or Sephiroth was just as incredulous as to his own behaviour. Soon enough, those eyes turned to the redhead as he tended to the cuts on his face.

"Because I couldn't let him harm anyone like that," he replied quietly, hissing as the spirit smarted in the wound. "And he came after me. There was no way I could run away when he was spoiling so much for a fight." Raising one hand unsteadily to Genesis' face, he softly touched his cheek and smiled weakly. "It's better that I get injured than this beauty get spoiled, in any case, no?"

There was such a sincere softness in Sephiroth's eyes that Genesis hoped wasn't simply the result of his concussion. To know that there was such tenderness in the man's heart for him was… gratifying. It made his job so much easier. Perhaps now he could turn down the whore's façade and become something more fitting for marriage.

"Your drink, Sir." Genesis turned to find the maid hovering in the doorway, a large mug steaming with some hot liquid between her pale hands. She spoke timidly, as if she felt she was intruding.

Sephiroth nodded and winced, and gestured vaguely towards his bedroom. "Put it in my room, thank you," he said, and turned his attention back to Genesis. "Are you finished yet?"

He ran his fingers lightly over each cut and graze, making sure it was properly disinfected, clean and able to heal without a visible mark. "You're lucky the cuts are quite shallow," Genesis remarked with a smile. It would be a shame to scar such a pretty, naïve face.

With one more check, lightly pressing sore flesh to make sure no more blood would come out readily, Genesis stood, contented, and wrung out the flannel one more time. "The rest you'll have to sleep off," he said with a smile and put all the tools he had used back on the side, ready to be taken away by the maid. Strange how the moment he stepped back into a high-class abode, he slipped comfortably back into old habits.

He straightened out his dress and returned back to the dazed motionless man. Gently, Genesis laid a hand over the cheek that wasn't wounded and smiled, tilting his head to the opposite side so his fringe didn't obscure his vision. How easily he had made this man his own, and he didn't even spread his legs once in the process. "Thank you, Mr. Crescent, for everything."

There was a pause, a silence hanging in the air as Genesis stared deep into feline green eyes, still dilated with aching for rest. He leant down to brush a feathery kiss to pale lips before moving to help Sephiroth up.

Conveniently, the maid had left the door to Sephiroth's bedroom open, down the hallway towards the front of the house again. The room was grand, and yet somewhat plain – far from what Genesis would've wanted to sleep in. Then again, his room back at the brothel was filled with all sorts of strange novelties, mostly used during his work. Sephiroth's had sparse but fantastic furniture, wood stained dark and linens pure white.

As Genesis pulled the silver haired gentleman into the room, struggling somewhat due to the lack of support that had come in the form of the man's cane, blue eyes noticed a small orange shape lounging on the bed. The infamous cat that he had plotted to take only that morning. At the commotion, it raised its head, casting inquisitive eyes over the pair before flexing out sleepy muscles to stand.

Genesis sat Sephiroth on the bed and considered what to do next. He was still fully clothed, in his outer coat and boots, which usually would've been shed at the door. Without a thought of the consequences his hands moved with a practised ease to loosen the garments, starting with removing the tie that held the two halves of his collar together against his neck. He'd done it so many times that there was no thought in the action. Perhaps not a very becoming action for a lady to perform, but he was doing it solely for practicality, assuming that Sephiroth's fingers, especially those of his injured right hand, would not be up for the task.

"Thank you," Sephiroth muttered, shrugging off his coat and letting Genesis take it to throw haphazardly over a nearby chair. "I'll have Elena set up a bed for you in the spare room, and something to eat… you can't go walking back there on your own this late."

There was a purr as Susie prowled up behind him, rubbing up his back through the material of his shirt, the pristine white of which was smeared with dark blood. He smiled somewhat dazedly and turned to stroke her, then returned his attention to Genesis momentarily before he made to stand to fetch Elena – only to have her appear in the doorway when her name was called.

With visible relief, Sephiroth sat back down. "Please could you set up the spare room for our guest?" he said, motioning to Genesis. "She'll be staying the night."

The girl curtseyed and made to leave the room before Sephiroth called her back, requesting some food for the redhead; he thought, and it was evident to Genesis, that he could not stay conscious for long enough to eat.

"Please excuse my manners," he apologised to Genesis, taking one of his delicate hands between his own. "I would eat with you, but I'm afraid my… condition won't allow it." He laughed a little bitterly. "So much fuss for one street rat…"

Genesis gingerly laid his other hand on Sephiroth's cheek and slowly pushed him to lay back, giving the little cat enough warning to pad to the side, and lie down once more purring.

"Street rats are the ones you have to look out for, although the aristocracy would stab you in the back just as quickly." Genesis muttered with a smirk, pulling his hands back to finish with undressing the man as he lay.

It was a perfect opportunity to explore the man fully, each muscle and curve of his form; the length of his slim legs as the redhead bent to remove his boots, socks and trousers. Upon rising back to his full height, Genesis saw the rosy blush on porcelain cheeks that his actions had incurred. He couldn't help but bend to brush his lips against those dusted high cheekbones. "You're too kind, Mr. Crescent."

After that, it was only a matter of manoeuvring limp limbs to get Sephiroth warm under the covers. He seemed half asleep as it was, cooperating but blushing like a choirboy presented with his first debauchery. A quaint novelty; one Genesis was eager to explore to the maximum. "Sleep now," he hushed and pressed another light kiss to Sephiroth's lips before he quietly retraced his steps out of the room.

Susie's golden eyes followed his movement, with a cautious inquisitiveness. But soon enough she lost interest and settled down to sleep at her master's feet.

Elena was out in the corridor, stood straight and ready to serve. She smiled at Genesis, still gloriously ignorant, and wordlessly invited him downstairs to eat. Initially, she offered the dining hall, which had been hastily assembled, but Genesis declined with a wave of his hand and said "The kitchen will suit me fine."

He was used to such, shut out of his parents' social functions, shut out even when there were no guests in the house, and Kunsel's brothel didn't even offer a separate room from the kitchen. There was just an old, stained wood table, not dark, polished mahogany. There were some pleasures Genesis wanted to keep until Sephiroth was… prepared. The redhead smirked as he ran his bare hands along the smooth wood of Sephiroth's kitchen table. He could certainly live in this house.

"I apologise that it isn't much, Miss. But Sir hasn't been eating much these last few days so Cook doesn't prepare much," the blonde woman said as she laid down a series of beautifully delicate china plates and bowls, decorated with silver-rimmed ivy twines, filled with bread, cold meat and steaming hot soup.

"It's fine… thank you," Genesis added for good measure, not wanting to seem too rude and sanctimonious, as was the personality bred into him, lest the maid go and inform her master that the strange lady was acting in a presumptuous manner. All the girl did was smile and curtsy and leave the room as Genesis ate.

It was far more than his pallet had gotten used to in the recent years, filling his head with bitter memories, of his childhood… though the silence of the house, in contrast to what was a bed of superficial laughter and mutual disdain, helped him grasp a hold of the present. The moment his spoon hit the bottom of the empty bowl, utterly sated, Elena appeared again in the doorway and worked around him, busy as a little bee, to clean away the dishes. "If you'd follow me, Miss," she smiled warmly and gestured back to the door.

The spare bedroom was equally as meagre as Sephiroth's, but with a little more colour. The bedspread was a dark blue, contrasting with shimmering gold threads, freshly made. Everything was dusted, gleaming. This place was perfection, Genesis inwardly laughed to himself, admiring his own good fortune and cunning. Sitting down on the bed, the mattress was butter soft, a heaven compared to the cheap layer of bricks he slept on back at the brothel, and so much more comfortable.

Almost falling asleep then and there, contented in more ways than one, his hands subconsciously moved to strip himself out of his dress, keeping on all the undergarments and settling under the covers. Smugness was an expression that couldn't be shirked from his pale face as slumber crept up to claim him in a peaceful sweetness that he hadn't felt in years.

_[Exeunt]_


	5. Act V

**Warnings; **Yaoi! Cross-dressing! Fraud!

**Disclaimers; **characters not ours but we still write about them anyway!

**A/N; **GOOD EVENING! I bet you forgot all about this! Ha-ha, as if you ever could! We're just too good to be cast aside into the shadows! Yes, this is Chaos writing the AN here! I bet you missed me sooo much... Now that I've stepped off my pedestal, I believe thanks is in order for AlexJ69 for actually reminding us that we had to update this! Gee-String and I are just having too much fun writing it. TOO MUCH FUN!

So, thanks for the patience. We love to hear opinions and flames! Flames are lulz. Chaos likes lulz. So, PLEASE REVIEW! D':

Love love!

**Act V**

**Scene I**

The throbbing pain in his head woke him steadily, growing harder and more uncomfortable with every heartbeat as he came around. Opening his eyes slowly, blinking against the light, he looked at the ceiling, groggy. Strange; he didn't remember getting into bed – or really getting home…

As the last thing he recalled clearly – the fight with the would-be rapist, and Genesis' arrival – came back into his head, Sephiroth attempted to continue the journey in his mind and remembered blurry fragments: Genesis walked him home (a long and arduous journey, he thought); treated his wounds (which stung dully now); undressed him… his face flushed again and he jerked up to a sitting position to hurriedly locate his clothes, which were hung neatly over the end of the bed, before his head wheeled and he flopped back down to the pillows with a moan.

Feeling the back of his skull tenderly with bruised fingers, he found a smarting lump rising beneath his hair; he winced and pulled his hand away, instead testing the cut under his cheekbone. It was still aching, but less sharply than he remembered – maybe a testament to Genesis' treatment.

Bracing himself, he gingerly propped his body up and rolled out of bed, steadying himself with a hand on the wall as his vision blacked out a little and his heart struggled to reassert its balance. Shrugging on a robe from the hook behind the door, he shuffled to the bathroom and peered into the silver-edged mirror, recoiling momentarily from his appearance. His skin was pale, pallid in the harsh morning light, the red cut vivid against it; the edges of the incision were bruised and red, but there was luckily no sign of infection. His right hand hurt to move, the split skin on his knuckles red and puffy; he flexed the fingers a few times to exercise out the stiffness, wincing.

The water from the tap was cold as he splashed it over his face, banishing the heavy dullness from behind his eyes and waking him up properly. He gripped the side of the basin and stared into the mirror, wondering how to conceal the injuries; they were too obvious to go unnoticed, and someone was sure to ask about them. How could he respond?

"_I was fighting for the honour of a whore"_?

_He_ knew it had been worthwhile and that Genesis had been worth saving; but no one else would understand. He would face ridicule, disgust… not to mention what his parents would say when they found out.

With a sigh, Sephiroth turned away from the sink and moved out of the room, hesitating just before the closed door to the spare room. He did not want to intrude on Genesis' privacy, especially after what must have been a travesty of manners the night before; he couldn't remember if she'd even been offered anything to eat. He'd have to ask Elena.

After a second, he dropped his hand away from the handle and went back to his own room to dress, sure that bursting into another's room – especially a guests' – would be terribly inappropriate.

**Scene II**

For the first time in such a long while, Genesis woke almost naturally, there being no overly loud ruckus or aroma coming from the streets below this little paradise. The curtains were thick – blue velvet – and shut out most of the morning light, leaving nothing but slivers of gold in the darkness, highlighted by the dust particles that hung in the air.

Smiling, satisfied and smug, Genesis stretched out before rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. It was pure white, perhaps freshly painted within the last year and betrayed no water stains – or indeed blood stains – from age and clients with their strange requests – luckily Genesis had yet to encounter such a man. Kunsel had banned such practices after the previous occupant of the room had turned up on the street dead and mutilated.

It was a pleasant thing to wake and have nothing but the smell of fresh linen and decadence surrounding, no musk, no sweat and no lingering stench of sex that Genesis found the most degrading thing of all. Though the force of habit had his mind craving for a bath first thing in the morning, there was no real need. A simple wash would suffice.

Elena had been out and about when Genesis first woke, remaining silent as if she were invisible until the redhead turned to her and inquired about Sephiroth.

"Sir is still in bed," she replied and scuttled about her duties.

And he had remained so for some while, until Genesis heard muffled footsteps and running water from the bathroom. He had considered walking out to greet him, but decided against it, knowing that he would probably not have appreciated a woman seeing him before he was properly dressed in the morning. It was a matter of propriety, and perhaps more so when in the company of a whore. Businessmen had reputations to uphold, and though many could get away with their nocturnal lives, such as Lazard and Rufus because they were so untouchable and rich, Sephiroth might not. He was such a blushing darling of a boy he probably wouldn't even know how to cover up a habit of hedonism.

Stood by the window, looking out over the street, Genesis saw three little silver heads across the other side. They seemed a little too busy watching the traffic – all the rich men in their pressed suits and top hats strutting past on their way to work. He wondered if they dreamed to be like that one day, not having to pick pockets for a living, rather work to pay for the mako heating and their wives' dresses and children's education. Such a monotonous existence did seem like a heaven to those with freedom on the streets. The only thing that governed the souls of the slum rats were their stomachs.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Genesis found himself flung on the floor, on his front and a solid weight settling on his back. It had happened so fast that only a startled yelp escaped his mouth, his hand reaching out to grab something to stop his fall, but only resulted in breaking a nail. He struggled, but the assailant remained steadfast.

**Scene III**

The bang from upstairs had Sephiroth setting down his fork in bewilderment, casting a glance at Elena as she laid out breakfast and then up at the ceiling.

"What the devil was that?" he wondered out loud, and pushed his chair from the table, waving off the girl's help. He strode up the stairs, taking them two at a time, conscious that the disturbance had come from the guest room and wondering just what was going on.

With Elena in tow, he threw the ajar door open and swept in to see a figure in a black suit struggling to pin down Genesis, who was fighting with all she had to throw him off. For a second, Sephiroth just stared in confusion and outrage; and then his senses returned to him and he stormed in, seizing Genesis' assailant by the collar to pull him off her.

"Tseng!" he exclaimed angrily, letting go of the butler, "what on earth do you think you're doing to our guest?"

The black-haired man looked mortified for a second before his professional mien returned with a flat expression. "My deepest apologies, Sir… Miss." He bowed deeply to them both, every move flawlessly executed in custom's fashion. "I did not know we had a guest staying. I thought it was an intruder."

Sephiroth nodded curtly and gestured towards the door. "I will deal with you later."

With another bow and apology, Tseng left the room, his whole body emanating failure; it was not often he acted wrongly, and this was disconcerting in itself, but this time Sephiroth did not know how much damage he'd wrought. What kind of manners was that? Letting the staff attack guests?

Shooing Elena away into the hallway, he shut the guest room door and went to where Genesis had picked herself off the floor and was brushing herself off. Gently taking her arm, he helped her back to the bed and sat her down, casting a glance over her to check for any immediate injury.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised miserably, glaring back at the door momentarily.

"Tseng likes to know what's going on in the house… and he has a history somewhere in the military I believe. I'm so very sorry you had to go through that; I swear it won't happen again."

He realised what he'd implied and looked away from her sapphire eyes for a second. "That is, if you did happen to come back again."

Genesis obviously forced a smile, nursing her finger and staring at it as if she were still a little in shock. "I've had worse tumbles before," she muttered, dropping her hand down to her lap with a sigh. Against the deep red taffeta of her dress, her skin was healthy-looking but still pale; a legacy, perhaps, from a nocturnal lifestyle. "Thank Goodness I was dressed." A little chuckle came from her lips. "What a scandal there could have been."

Genesis cast another look from the window and then slowly turned back to Sephiroth, a slightly odd, curious expression on her face. Her hand continued moving, until her palm was cupping the side of Sephiroth's head; her fingers toying with obedient silver strands.

"It's you we should be worried about," she chided, offering a warmer smile. "How are you this morning, Mr. Crescent?"

A smile crept across his face at the touch of her hand, leaning into the touch slightly in a manner reminiscent of Susie's affectionate manner. He moved his uninjured hand up to touch hers; her skin was soft, slightly warmer than the room's air.

"I'm well, thank you," he replied. "All thanks to you. If you hadn't been there after he attacked me…" Looking away, he blinked slowly, not wanting to think of what would have happened if he'd been left alone in Sector Five, injured, at night… Pushing away the dark imaginings with a smile, he met Genesis' wonderful eyes again. He'd never seen anything quite like them before. "You know what would have gone on.

"But," he continued, trying to leave the subject behind, "fate made it so you were there, and I cannot thank you enough for it…"

Except maybe in one way?

**Scene IV**

Hesitantly, Sephiroth let his hand wander from Genesis' hand down his arm to his jaw; tilting it a little to admire his features in the sunlight-shot room, he leaned forwards slowly, almost adorably awkwardly, and met Genesis' lips in a soft, light kiss.

"I do hope you don't mind if I try to convey my gratitude this way?"

Genesis' inner smile was so wide it was threatening to split into two. A thick blanket of content wrapped around him, drowning senses, as he felt nothing but self-gratitude and conceit. Physically, Sephiroth's lips were warm and still quivering against his own, though he was sure enough to dominate the kiss himself, saving Genesis the effort. He was inexperienced, but trying; it wouldn't take long for him to adjust to what Genesis liked. The redhead was usually the one forced to adapt, remembering each client as an individual. Sephiroth could be moulded, and too easily.

As the man pulled away for his breather, the rhythm in his chest was a little faster than normal. Genesis let a pleased grin light up his features. His hand slid further around Sephiroth's head and tightened its grip and started to pull him down, as he himself lowered himself onto the soft mattress. "I don't mind at all, Sir," he answered as a whisper as he leant back up to capture those lips again.

More so than his apparent virginity, there was a freshness in Sephiroth's taste; he lacked that usual dandy smell of the businessmen that frequented Genesis' bedroom. He was masculine, strong and felt fantastic under the redhead's exploring hands. Although clothed under the usual many layers of a corporate suit, all his muscles were tense and ready to knead. Genesis wondered just what sort of childhood the man must've had to form him like this. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure whether he regretted lacking it or not. Being so well built would not have helped with his 'disguise' whatsoever.

Upon instinct to the weight that settled on his hips, Genesis spread his legs, bracketing Sephiroth's off the end of the bed. The entire affair was comfortable in all of its calmness, in comparison to the hungry and eager grasps and yanks of his clients, not wanting to waste too much time with one whore when there were others downstairs that wouldn't bite when given a glimpse of a chance.

Letting his smile break onto his façade, Genesis broke the kiss to lay his head back on the bed linens, regarding Sephiroth with amused blue eyes. "You're very welcome, Mr. Crescent."

Sephiroth seemed to be gaining confidence with every move Genesis made. He shifted his weight away from the redhead's body, perhaps worrying he was causing discomfort, but hopefully not discomforted himself. It did not appear that way to Genesis, as the man occupied himself with pressing kisses anywhere else on his skin; along his cheekbones, jawline and back to his mouth, his gaze enraptured by the sensations Genesis provoked with his wandering hands under tailored clothes.

Genesis hummed under the constant attention though each touch was all but numbed through overexposure. There was a tenderness and passion and… dare he say it, affection in Sephiroth's kisses that they made just the slightest, most delicate tingling sensations on his skin. He put it down to the fact that each kiss proved his worth and genius and the true reward would be soon to follow. After the man was finished with his amorous outbreak.

Leaning on one hand, Sephiroth shrugged off the restricting formal outer coat, helped by Genesis; disregarding damaging the expensive garment, he threw it away.

"I'm so very glad to hear that," he said with a smile, trailing his hand to move Genesis' fringe away from his eyes. "Do you think your debt is repaid yet?"

Smiling as his hands went to unbutton the plain waistcoat, Genesis hummed in thought. "I think 'saving your life' might have erased saving mine… but then there's the debt of the cigarettes, and of your exquisite company, and your hospitality to me."

Slowly, he slid the black, satin-lined garment from broad shoulders, letting it fall without regard. He grabbed those shoulders and yanked Sephiroth back down on top of him, so he could feel his weight and feel _him_. Then, as much as he hated it, Genesis' hands dropped to his own neck, where he slowly worked through the fastenings that kept the collar against his throat. If Sephiroth found his Adam's apple now, then so be it; the way things were going, he'd find out that Genesis wasn't what 'she' seemed in next to no time.

He played a common game with his tongue, one of teasing and worship, following as much as he guided Sephiroth in the dance. Hands found their way to grip the silver haired male's tie, and tugged, wordlessly requesting a moment to breathe – further empowerment of the male: he could choose to decline the wish if he so wanted. His legs moved up to bracket Sephiroth's hips, holding him tight in place.

"Although – I think – in doing this – you're just – giving me – one more – debt," Genesis murmured between butterfly kisses along Sephiroth's jaw until his lips twisted into a smirk; he pushed the man off and followed the momentum to bring himself on top.

Silver hair splayed out on the dark bed linens, like moonbeams in a midnight sky, and green eyes stared up, a little nervous. As was only to be expected in being like him. The smirk grew into a smile. He was in the mood to tease, a playful malevolence ignited by his conceit. "So, Mr. Crescent, tell me how you want me."

The man blinked a little nervously at Genesis' swapping of positions, amusingly so. He was so innocent, and trying so hard to cover it. He reached up to run his hands through Genesis' hair, fingers more tender and delicate than most of his clientele.

Eventually, when the redhead was getting a little impatient, Sephiroth pulled Genesis' lips down to his again, without a verbal answer yet. The redhead's lips curved into a smile at the sign of entrapment, the fact that Sephiroth was willingly doing this. What a thrill! Sephiroth was becoming more adventurous, more like what Genesis was used to, moving his hands down over the other as his hands were exploring the gentleman.

"Why don't I just show you?" Sephiroth said eventually in a soft voice and a smirk. Settling his hands on Genesis' waist for a secure grip, he surged upwards and twisted so Genesis' back was pinned to the polished headboard of the bed. Keeping him there with his hips, he turned his attention to the rest of the fastenings on the front of the dress, leaning in to capture his lips in a kiss again, darting in and out of his mouth in time with the movements of his fingers down the catches.

So enraptured with the treatment was he that Genesis almost didn't hear the door open, and apparently, neither did Sephiroth; it was only when he heard the maid speak that he broke away from Genesis.

"Breakf—oh!" The girl gave a shocked gasp and jumped away swiftly as Sephiroth turned, senses blurred by pleasure sharpening with a jolt. "I'm sorry Sir! I didn't…" Her cheeks were burning, her eyes downcast as she curtseyed in abject apology, no doubt fearing for her job as much as Tseng was downstairs; two indiscretions in one day did not bode well for the continuation of Sephiroth's current household. "I'll just—"

She didn't finish the sentence but backed out of the door hastily and fled. Genesis remained against the headboard for a moment as Sephiroth pieced himself back together. His breathing had quickened a little without him truly realising it, until that frantic kiss had died before its time. There was true passion in there, an untapped lust and the telltale bitterness of an infatuation lingered in the taste of Sephiroth upon his tongue. Blinking a few times, Genesis collected himself; he hadn't been so swept away in years, then again, he hadn't been so high off himself in an equally long time.

Sighing, Sephiroth returned his gaze towards Genesis, offering a tiny smile in apology, perhaps for what had happened or perhaps for what had been interrupted. "I assure you, they're not like this all the time…"

They shared one last rueful kiss, before Sephiroth shuffled over to sit on the edge of the bed, finding his discarded waistcoat and shrugging it back on.

It was important to make an appearance downstairs as soon as possible to prevent the girl's gossip spreading like wildfire to the neighbouring house's servants; such an outbreak, in this social circle, was easily as bad as the flowering of water poisoning or the winter cough in the slums. It moved just as fast, and was certainly as deadly.

Mechanically, his hands set to refastening the dress. Though glad that their dance would live on to a later reprise, there was a certain measure of frustration that haunted Genesis that the lie of his façade would also remain to raise its head at another time. At least if the issue was out in the open, Genesis would know if Sephiroth would still respect and take him in, or if he was completely wasting his time, and he would have to crawl back to Kunsel with his head held high and his plaster mask infallible against his broken pride. Not that Genesis would ever let Sephiroth turn him down.

"Staff are staff," Genesis sighed and shuffled across to the edge of the bed before standing to locate his boots. "You can try and try to keep them in order, but-" he ceased his current line of thought vocally. No point on broadcasting something that he technically should know nothing about. How could he, a common prostitute, ever be able to contemplate the freeness of servants' mouths, and how easily and whimsically they could betray their masters? It was via a well-placed whisper of a butler that Genesis found himself in his current position.

"In the end they are their own people, I suppose," he offered in an attempt to save face. He bent to quickly lace his black-leather boots to his legs, a routine so practised he didn't even have to look at his hands as he did it. Thoughts ran wildly in his head, of the day ahead, and ahead of that, as well as concocting excuses to throw at Kunsel when he returned to the Red Lotus, on why he had not returned last night for his next round.

"Was your maid saying something about breakfast?" the redhead asked, standing to full height once again to look at Sephiroth, as immaculate as ever, if a little flushed around the cheeks. And evidently his sex was still yearning for the lost moment. Genesis smirked a little, silently sharing its lament.

**Scene V**

"I believe she was," Sephiroth agreed as they walked down the rich carpet of the hallway, footsteps muffled by the thick pile. "I won't let you leave until you've had some; it would be simply discourteous, and especially after whatever you were given last night, I could not turn you away."

They entered the dining room, and Elena rushed in from the kitchen and returned to her duties as if stung into action; her eyes were still downcast, flickering around the room when Sephiroth had pulled out a chair for Genesis and seated himself to the remains of his own meal.

"So," Sephiroth began, wishing to break the heavy silence hanging with the presence of the maid, "I trust you slept well, Genesis? I hardly had a… chance to ask."

For some reason, Sephiroth swore there was a little smirk on Genesis' face as she daintily spread a generous layer of soft butter on fresh, steaming breakfast muffins. Maybe it was the way she managed to make the simple action so graceful; perhaps it was her obvious enjoyment of the food, no doubt of a far higher quality than what she would have been eating had she been back at the Red Lotus now. Hiding a guilty smile as he realised he was staring behind the rim of his teacup, he took a steadying swallow of the unsweetened liquid and set it down carefully.

"I slept fantastically, as one could only expect really," Genesis smiled after swallowing a mouthful. She reached over to the china cup of tea that Elena had poured out, and dosed it with a usual measure of sugar that Sephiroth would have found unbearably sweet. "And yourself?" she asked, glancing across the table and straight into Sephiroth's eyes. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm glad you enjoyed your stay," he replied, occupying himself with his own breakfast, painfully aware of the maid's presence, hanging onto every word, but unable to ask her to leave because it would simply dig this hole deeper. "And as for myself, I think I can survive attending work today."

He didn't know what he would say to explain away the mysterious injuries that would have appeared since the day before; the bruising and cut were hardly discreet, glaring out on his face for any to see, and though he could legitimately claim they were from some thug who'd attempted to rob him – which was what he'd feared happening in any case – that would cause too much fuss and hassle as the others railed at the brutality of slum life, proffered gifts to make up for whatever he'd lost, curse the man who'd attacked him. But they would never think of trying to help the poor themselves.

But anyway, the cuts on the knuckles of his right hand were far less easy to explain and very obviously from a fight; he considered wearing gloves, and decided it would be the best way, though it would be a little difficult to explain why inside, in the heated ShinRa building – and the bandages could be too bulky to conceal. It was his only choice though, and he guessed he would simply have to bluff his way out of any awkward questions.

The elaborate clock on the wall showed half past eight; almost time for him to leave, normally. Being late for work certainly wouldn't improve his chances of avoiding too much contact with superiors, and wouldn't improve their opinions of him either.

"Would you like me to walk you back…" He tailed off and cleared his throat, casting a glance at Elena as he caught himself. "… home, after you've finished? I'd better be getting to work."

Genesis ceased to eat when he spoke, lowering the muffin back down to her plate and wiping her mouth delicately with a white serviette that was rimmed with shimmering golden threads. Blue eyes looking across the table held a look of concern.

"I don't think it's a good idea to overexert yourself, Mr. Crescent," she said as she picked up the tea cup once again. "I know of people who suffer concussions, feel fine in the morrow and faint during the day. I do not believe that that would be good for your workplace, no?" A sigh; a wistful glance back down at the plate. "I should go immediately, my… father will be frantic with worry."

Sephiroth wondered if Elena could hear the hesitation in their speech, the obvious – to him – way that they were both hiding something; he hoped not, wishing not to pique her interest even more. Taking one last bite of his breakfast and a swig of tea to wash it down, he brushed his hands together and pushed away from the table.

"In that case," he said, offering Genesis a hand, "I will walk you back, and then he'll have no excuse to be angry with you."

Kunsel weighed heavily on Sephiroth's mind, too. He'd seen how angry the man had been when Genesis had simply been talking to him; now, when she'd stayed away for a whole night – no doubt losing him money as well as disobeying – Sephiroth didn't want to think of what the consequences would be for her. Bruises? Cuts? Broken bones? He knew what kind of violence went on in the slums – well, he'd been on the receiving end of it. To think of that brutal man abusing the one before him now made him furious, disgusted; there was no possibility of him allowing her to leave for home without any kind of protection against that, though he knew there was little he could technically do.

He masked his anxiety and tried to assuage the nervousness he saw in her eyes with a suave smile. "Please, let me come with you," he said, seeing her about to complain. Overexertion? What a ridiculous notion; it was in his best interests, he knew, but it didn't hide the fact that it was unnecessary. Years of physical training had hardened him to fatigue and the vagaries of injury; he'd undertaken it at first simply so the long hours would take him away from Hojo and the misery of their family home, but soon he'd grown to enjoy it as sport. Fencing, hand-to-hand combat, and horse riding when they'd been in the country residence had been a few of his pastimes, and the ones he'd kept with him even after the distraction wasn't necessary any more.

But he appreciated the thought. He hoped – or maybe he was deceiving himself into thinking – that it could have been a sign that she hadn't just stayed because it was a free bed for the night, and she hadn't simply seduced him in the hope of payment.

"The fresh air would probably do me good, as you're so worried."

**Scene VI**

"That is a very kind offer, Mr. Crescent," Genesis said as the pair walked from the dining room, leaving Elena to silently clear the table. The other servant, the sharp suited lithe butler who had assaulted him earlier, waited in the hall. He had apparently heard – or at least knew the time – of Sephiroth's departure and stood holding his master's perfect top hat and silver handled walking cane. Genesis was already prepared to go and watched until the man was ready to leave.

The walk back to Sector Five was not a quick one, but one spent mostly in silence. What was there to talk about? Common ground had not yet been ascertained, or not that Genesis was sharing any, anyway. There had been a few strange glances shot their way from strangers on the streets, wondering why a fine young man would be guiding a pretty young woman into the slums, dressed almost begging to be mugged and knifed.

As soon as they reached the Red Lotus, the market still bustling on the street outside, Genesis pulled Sephiroth into that cluttered alley in which they first met. Initially, he planted a soft, chaste kiss onto pale lips and let a shy, anxious expression wash over his features. He stared up at Sephiroth with bright blue eyes that reflected sunlight coming from the street. "Kunsel has named his terms," Genesis started, toying with the hem of Sephiroth's outer jacket. "He says I can still see you, if you're willing to start paying," he added a cringe in for good measure, expressing his hatred for the man, playing the part of a defenceless whore at the mercy of her owner quite well, if he said so himself. Blinking and turning his gaze down to the floor, Genesis lowered his voice to a whisper, though still loud enough to be heard over the daytime ruckus of the slums. "I do want to spend more time with you, Mr. Crescent, even if we're just like this." The hands on Sephiroth's jacket slipped around to embrace him, Genesis drew himself nearer, inhaling his strong masculine scent once more.

"As do I," the other replied, and arms slid around his waist; lips were on his for a second. Shifting a little to gently disentangle himself from the embrace, Sephiroth reached into an inside pocket of his coat and fetched out a large leather wallet, careful to keep it out of sight of most people from the street. No point advertising the fact that he carried money here. "How much does he need?"

With great difficulty, Genesis tore his eyes away from the wallet, fat from money. The leather was jet black and had the shine from soft, high quality material – no doubt foreign. It was hard for the redhead to remain calm and level-headed when his conscience made a casual comment that some day – soon, he hoped – all that apparent wealth would be shared with him. He just couldn't wait!

Pensively pausing, Genesis glanced out towards the street. Nobody even acknowledged them; they were little more than the rats that hid in the shadows of the day to run and rut under the glow of moon and mako. "Well, we haven't done anything, so much to say, so… twenty gil? I can pay the rest to keep him quiet."

For what they had done, twenty gil was a little expensive. A few kisses – mostly that Genesis initiated – and a lead up to sex which had been cut short would've been about ten gil, but after being missing for the whole night, Kunsel would suppose that they had spent it together in the same bed. Therefore, Genesis thought it necessary to double the price. The difference would come from the money he had snatched from the man he had entertained the previous night.

Blue eyes watched avidly as Sephiroth cautiously picked out the named amount and offered it forwards. "Will I see you again tonight?" he asked and stood to his toes to press his lips back against Sephiroth's, a deeper kiss than the chaste touching of mouths previously. His left hand wound back into silver hair, loving the feel of long silk like nothing else he'd ever felt before, whilst the right graciously took those notes and clasped them in a safe fist. Genesis broke away, eyes closed and smiling.

"See that one as a parting gift from me," he whispered and slowly, feigning regret, pulled back. "I should get inside before he finds us." A smile graced his lips as he gently touched Sephiroth's hand to kiss it good-bye politely. "And you promise me that you won't go to work!"

Moving his hand from Genesis' grip to touch the side of his face gently, Sephiroth nodded amiably. "I promise then," he replied.

_[Exeunt]_


End file.
